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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840511">The night visitor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoozydog/pseuds/Snoozydog'>Snoozydog</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blackmail, Doctor John, Doctor/Patient, Drug Addiction, Falling In Love, Forced Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Illegal Activities, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jealous John, Lies, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Secrets, creepiness, engaged Sherlock, non-con elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:46:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>116,246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24840511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoozydog/pseuds/Snoozydog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson, former army surgeon, employed by the secretive and indefinable government official Mycroft Holmes, accidentally saves the life of his employer's younger brother and ends up being hired as his private physician.<br/>John is immediately fascinated by his new patient but not only is Sherlock engaged to be married to someone else, but he is also a man surrounded by many dark secrets. Under the looming threat of Mycroft’s watchful eyes, as well as Sherlock’s imminent wedding there is also something else that lurks in the shadows, something that threats the budding relationship that has started to develop between the doctor and his enigmatic patient.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 02:00 am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A hand lingered against a pale throat, caressing it with its fingertips. From the outside it might have looked affectionate, but the recipient of the touch had to force himself not to shudder. </p>
<p>Moist lips touched upon the sensitive skin beneath the earlobe, followed by a sucking sound that quickly turned possessive, teeth scraping against the skin until they punctuated the surface and a cry of pain escaped from the one who had been bitten. </p>
<p>The biter soothingly made a hushing sound before returning to the red mark he had made, continuing to eagerly suck at the tender spot while his hands travelled south down the endless planes of firm pectoral muscles towards the flat stomach, sharp nails leaving angry red scratches in their wake. </p>
<p>White knuckles gripped frantically at the bed sheets to ride out the pain, a quick glance being thrown at the alarm clock to figure out how long this was bound to go on for. </p>
<p>It was only 2 A.M. </p>
<p>Many hours left before this was over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A body on the ground</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John threw his wet towel on his camp bed and began to get dressed, not bothering about the fact that others were privy to his naked backside. He had nothing to feel ashamed about when it came to his appearance and besides, he was used to living in confined spaces after his time in the army. </p>
<p>The barrack housed twenty men of different ages and backgrounds but despite the seemingly limited space they all had a small area to call their own and John had not felt as at home as he did now, since he had returned from Afghanistan.   </p>
<p>Freshly shaved and quickly dressed, he cast a look in the mirror that hung above his bed. For the last couple of months he had managed to regain some of the muscle mass he has lost while recuperating in a hospital bed after having been shot in the shoulder. His skin was slightly tanned from spending a lot of time outdoors and his body felt solid and firm again, like it had been before he had been sent down from Kandahar on account of his injury. </p>
<p>A scar across his shoulder, as well as a limp that occasionally made itself known but no longer constantly caused him pain, were the remnants he still carried upon his body as reminders of what he had been through. But other than that, he felt more or less like himself again as he looked into the mirror and a sense of gratification made itself known as he realised this. </p>
<p>In the beginning, after he had first arrived from Afghanistan, he had been completely lost, with nothing and no one welcoming him home, no plans and no future to look forward to, more like his career was waving good bye to him in the rear-view mirror as he saw his hopes and aspirations crumble to ash the very moment the bullet hit his shoulder and tore the flesh and bone inside it apart, preventing him from ever taking up his surgical skills again. </p>
<p>Sitting alone in a bedsit, as that was the only home his meagre army pension could possibly afford, he had contemplated ending it all with the service weapon he had omitted to turn in as he left the army, but sheer luck or fate, it there was such a thing, had decided to intervene in the unexpected shape of a former class mate from medical school named Mike Stamford who he had accidentally run into after a visit to his psychiatrist. </p>
<p>Stamford no longer worked in medicine but unlike John, his career had developed into a new direction and he now employed a position in a research facility owned by the government that involved some very classified projects run by a man named Mycroft Holmes – a person so obscure that there was no telling what he actually did for a living.  </p>
<p>Getting John a position there as well had not been a possibility as the vetting process took years, but Stamford had helpfully told him to apply for other more manual assignments at the same facility in the meantime, just to get started. Mr Holmes was always looking for suitable recruitments and a week later John had found himself sitting across a balding man called Caruthers, repeating everything Stamford had told him to say, ending the meeting by signing the dotted line of his employment contract before he went back to the bedsit, packed his meagre belongings in a bag and moved into the barrack where he now lived. </p>
<p>He had never regretted that decision and had quickly settled into his new environment and the other people who worked and lived around him.</p>
<p>Most of all he had appreciated the company they offered him as he had felt very lonely after his return, and even if the work could be exhausting and occasionally caused him to crash face first into his bed from exhaustion, he had managed to regain a sense of self-worth that for  a man like him meant everything. </p>
<p>He seldom saw Stamford as he worked in a high-security area of the facility where you needed clearance to enter and John’s zone was separated from the actual lab by plenty of surveillance and locked doors that could only be entered with personalized key cards. But despite this, he thrived and began to consider this place to be the closest thing to a home he had had for a long time.</p>
<p>He took regular morning swims in the lake on the premise before work, went to the pub with the others for a pint and a game on the telly and all in all he felt fairly happy most of the time.</p>
<p>This day was no different and after having run his fingers through his damp sand-coloured hair he turned his back on the mirror and joined the rest of the men heading for work.</p>
<p>Shortly before noon he left the facility to take a piss as well as wash his hands as lunch time was soon upon them and he was both greasy as well as sweaty, his stained shirt clinging to his back like a second skin.</p>
<p>As he opened the door that led out to a courtyard where the toilets were located he suddenly heard a wheezing sound and looked around in bewilderment, trying to locate the source but did not manage to see anything out of the ordinary. </p>
<p>He continued across the yard when the sound was heard once more, this time coming from his left and as he turned his head in that direction he froze in horror as he saw a hand sticking out between two dumpsters, lifelessly lying on the asphalt.</p>
<p>He rushed over and as he pushed one of the dumpsters to the side, the body of a young man was revealed, gasping for air, eyes rolled back and clearly suffering from a seizure of some sort.</p>
<p>He was probably in his mid to late twenties even if he looked younger and he had very pale skin that was glistening from sweat which John noticed as he knelt down beside him to feel for his pulse. His body was very lean and lithe, as well as tall, which made him appear to be all limbs and angles. Dressed in a white shirt and a pair of dress pants, angular features with pronounced cheekbones and plush lips and at the top of his head a cascade of dark curls that splayed out on the pavement, gave the sight a dramatic touch beyond the actual severity of the scene. </p>
<p>John couldn’t help but notice that he was quite the looker and just the sort of type John had tended to go for when he had last been interested in dating anyone, even if this particular man was far more handsome than anyone John had ever dated earlier. But then he quickly waved that thought away on account of the seriousness of the situation. Besides, he hadn’t shown any interest in meeting anyone since he had come back to England and this was hardly the time to think about such things.</p>
<p>The man’s lips were beginning to turn blue while his whole body trembled and swiftly John took one of the slender wrists in his hand to feel for a pulse. It was slightly elevated if not dangerously so and while John still felt unsure of what this situation actually was all about, he automatically switched to his medical persona and began performing CPR.</p>
<p>Despite the fact that he practically got no response from the almost unconscious man, John remained calm, knowing that losing control now could be the difference between life and death, and as he had seen far worse during his time abroad, he performed his duties with a steady and assured pace.</p>
<p>After he had completed the initial round of mouth-to mouth as well as chest compressions, he assessed that the biggest issue was the difficulty breathing and turned the body into the recovery position and then reached for his phone to call for an ambulance. </p>
<p>As the other man’s shirtsleeves were rolled up John had noticed that the arms had some faded scars that looked like track marks but none of them seemed fresh, so he felt reluctant to claim that the reason for the situation was drug related. Besides, there was no needle or any other paraphernalia lying about that could be related to a drug overdose, even if it could not be completely ruled out of course. </p>
<p>The biggest question was perhaps who this person actually was and what in God’s name he was doing here? The place had gates as well as surveillance cameras, so it was no easy task to just walk straight in, but he also did not look like a normal intruder, for one he didn’t seem to have any proper equipment with him to help him make a break in.</p>
<p>He was clearly not an employee, John had never seen him before and even if he didn’t know everyone’s name by heart, he certainly recognised his co-workers by their appearance, and this was not someone he had ever seen here. </p>
<p>The way the young man was dressed also went against the theory of this being an employee, no one worked in a crisp white shirt and dress pants when the risk of getting grease and dirt on your clothes was unavoidable. John put his own working clothes in the wash bin after each shift for that very same reason.</p>
<p>His eyes travelled over the limp body and he noticed how his fingers had left stains on the fabric of the shirt from where he had gripped the arms as well as pushed against the chest while performing the chest compressions, making it look like soot against the stark whiteness of the shirt. </p>
<p>A strange feeling at the sight of his imprints on the other man’s body made itself know by quickly causing a tingling sensation that he immediately managed to quench. This was not the appropriate time for dormant feelings carefully hidden and deeply buried within him to suddenly come to life by the innocent view stretched out before him. </p>
<p>Just as he had managed to get the phone out of his pocket, the young man suddenly tensed his whole upper body, shooting it up like a bow, his hands clawing at the throat as if to indicate that he was about to suffocate and John hurriedly dialled the familiar number he hadn’t used for years but still felt was ingrained in his backbone. </p>
<p>At the same second as someone picked up on the other end, his eyes suddenly zoomed in something that caught his attention – a small but swollen and very red mark on the side of the neck, visible to him now on account of the desperate clawing against it. </p>
<p>With one hand holding the phone and speaking to the emergency operator as calmly as he could, he leaned in to take a closer look at the mark and suddenly it all became very clear to him what kind of situation he was witnessing. </p>
<p>He had seen similar marks like that before, if not this particular version and as the operator kept asking him questions about the state of the patient, he cut through the flow of words, informing her that it looked like it could be caused by the sting of a wasp or possibly a bee and that this most likely was an anaphylactic shock.</p>
<p>Despite feeling confident that he now knew the reason for the man’s severe reaction, he also realised that time might be of essence as it depended on the gravity of the reaction if he was going to survive until the ambulance got here.</p>
<p>He contemplated leaving the man where he was to go search for a medical kit, hoping that it would be well-equipped and perhaps contain an adrenalin shot. But on the other hand he felt reluctant to simply leave him there on the pavement alone and unsupervised, what if he died while John was away?</p>
<p>Besides, what if the ambulance crew needed directions to find him? This place could be a proper labyrinth to an outsider and there was no time for getting lost in this situation. </p>
<p>No, he needed to stay put. </p>
<p>But if calmness had earlier managed to keep him in control, he now began to feel a trickle of actual dread run down his shoulder blades as he realised that the man might actually not make it and that there was nothing he could do but wait for the ambulance to arrive.</p>
<p>He bent over and began to do mouth-to mouth again while his mind raced with a million thoughts, fervently hoping that help would soon arrive…. </p>
<p>Then, suddenly he heard the door behind him open and without even turning to face whoever was approaching he barked out the order to fetch him a medical kit as quickly as possible, silently praying that he would find whatever he needed in there.</p>
<p>As he heard the approaching sound of sirens in the distance a medical kit was thrust under his nose and a quick ransack of its content rewarded him with an Epi-Pen he hoped would still be functioning and not be out of  date. </p>
<p>Without any hesitance he jammed it straight into the younger man’s thigh and then watched for signs of a reaction. Unfortunately none came, the man had slipped into unconsciousness completely now and he was probably in need of another shot but there had only been one Epi-Pen in the case. </p>
<p>At least John could still hear the sound of shallow rapid gasps coming from the parted lips and he sat down, leaning against one of the dumpsters with the young man’s head in his lap, cradling it with his fingers deeply burrowed in the sweat-soaked curls and waited for the ambulance crew to arrive and take the situation into their capable hands. </p>
<p>He had done what he could and now there was nothing to do but wait. </p>
<p>While it certainly felt like it went on forever it couldn’t not have been more than a minute or two before strong capable hands came to his aid, strapped an oxygen mask over the unconscious man’s face and then lifted him up on a stretcher that would take him to the waiting ambulance. He tried answering their questions to the best of his ability, most of them he did not know the answer to, but at least it kept him from keeling over from the sheer relief of their presence. </p>
<p>Then they were suddenly off and he was left alone in the oppressing silence of the courtyard staring at the door where they had just disappeared. </p>
<p>He remained seated on the ground for a few minutes, just trying to steady his own wildly beating heart, then he became aware of a hand reaching out to help him get to his feet. It belonged to the person who had brought him the medical kit, a man called Freddie.</p>
<p> John didn’t know him that well, they did not share the same sleeping accommodation, but he had seen him around and knew that he was good bloke. A good bloke who had helped him out just when he had needed it.</p>
<p>He took the outstretched hand and got to his feet, feeling a bit wobbly at first but then he managed to straighten his posture and as they walked back inside he felt the previous rush of adrenalin subsiding inside his veins and his ragged breath return to normal. He had forgot that his hands were still dirty and didn’t notice it until he sat down for lunch thirty minutes later, thoughts still reeling from his unexpected experience. </p>
<p>The thought about the man’s identity still lingered in his mind but no matter how he tried to ask Freddie about it, he got nothing but a shrug and some mumbled phrases of ignorance out of him. </p>
<p>But he had a funny expression on his face while making these denials which made John silently question if he did in fact have some knowledge about the stranger’s identity. </p>
<p>But if he did, he didn’t intend for John to find out anything about it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. An unexpected offer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Later that afternoon, as most of the other men had headed off to the pub to watch a game, he lounged on his bed, reading one of his paperbacks that kept him entertained when he wasn’t in the mood to join the others for a night out.</p>
<p>Suddenly the door to the barrack was opened and a woman, smartly dressed in a navy-blue suit, her heels clacking against the hard floor as she walked, came striding in his direction.</p>
<p>Surprised he lowered his book to cast a curios look at her approaching figure while wondering why this place suddenly was invaded by people he had never seen here before and to his knowledge did not work here either.</p>
<p>Come to think of it, he had never seen a woman on the premises until now and wondered what she could possibly be doing here when she, to his great surprise, stopped in front of him and gave him a brief one-over.</p>
<p>“Dr Watson?” she said, her voice stern and demanding, clearly thinking that being in this half-empty barrack in the middle of nowhere was way beneath her status. </p>
<p>“....Yes?” he said, not able to hide his surprise.</p>
<p>“Your employer wants to meet you. Come with me.”’</p>
<p>And with those parting words she turned her back against him and began walking back towards the door, not even checking to see if he was following. <br/>There was no need though, he quickly scrambled out of bed, cast a quick assessing look in the mirror to see that he look at least somewhat presentable after a hard day’s work and then hurried after her out of the barrack. </p>
<p>He had instinctively reacted to her calling him by his professional title. He had not used it for a while now as he no longer practiced medicine and he was fairly sure that he had not mentioned being a doctor when getting hired, and yet her she was, addressing him the way he had been used to be addressed before his injury. It felt equally nice as well as suspicious, because where had she gotten that information from?</p>
<p>She had also said that it was his employer that wanted to see him and he furrowed his brow as he contemplated that statement. </p>
<p>Could she be referring to Caruthers who was the one who had hired him? It seemed unlikely, because John had not seen so much as the shadow of that man since he had signed his contract, what could he possibly want all of a sudden?</p>
<p>As he also noticed the sleek black car waiting for him by the driveway he realised that if it truly was Caruthers who demanded his presence, John had sorely been mistaken about his personal taste. As far as he remembered, Caruthers had worn a non-descript, somewhat cheap suit with the smallest hint of dandruff across the shoulders, his comb-over gaining him an appearance made for ridicule and his office had boasted of nothing that even remotely resembled the luxury vehicle John now found parked in front of him. This was getting more interesting by the minute.</p>
<p>The woman was already waiting inside, having left the door open for him to enter, so he silently slipped in and made himself comfortable on the leather seat beside her as the car was set in motion.</p>
<p>The actual drive didn’t take long, no more than half an hour at the most and then it came to a stop in front of a large gate that opened up as the car approached and led them up the driveway to a big white house with huge empty windows that reflected the evening sky instead of enabling any insight to the rooms behind the glass. </p>
<p>The actual house was surrounded by a few plain-looking beeches as well as the hint of a garden that stretched out at the back, but the main impression was that not a single detail was particularly memorable and that the whole place almost looked empty. Not so much as a bird in sight.</p>
<p>As the car came to a halt, the woman nimbly got out and left John alone in the backseat for a minute, just taking in the exterior of his surroundings while trying to gather his thoughts around what the hell he was doing here and who it was that had summoned him. He was fairly sure by now that it wasn’t Carruthers.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the woman, who during the ride had been mostly glued to her phone and spurned any efforts John had tried at starting up a conversation, now opened up the front door and disappeared inside, forcing him to get out of the car and hurry after her if he didn’t want to be left behind. </p>
<p>The inside was tastefully decorated but very impersonal as well, nothing looked like it had been chosen with any particular care or affection and just as the exterior, it exuded an air of coldness about the place.</p>
<p>They walked along a hall of closed doors so it was difficult to tell if the whole house suffered from the same atmosphere of anonymity but the thick beige carpet beneath their shoes that silenced their steps completely, as well as the white tapestry and the non-descript paintings that were so boring that they almost became remarkable because of it, made John take a wild guess who the person who had summoned him actually was. He had never met the man himself, but had heard plenty from Stamford in order to make a good guess and the last thing he remembered being told was that this person was so shrouded in obscurity that no one truly knew what he did for a living. It certainly made this house fit straight in with the mystery of its resident then.</p>
<p>By the end of the hall the woman stopped by a set of stairs and placed herself to the side, finally looking up from her phone in order to give him her full attention.</p>
<p>“He’s down there, first door ahead, you can’t miss it. As the red light to the left of the door turns green, you may enter. No need to knock, he knows you’re here,” she said and then turned on her heel and headed back along the corridor.</p>
<p>John watched her disappear and then stared down the darkened shadow that made up the head of the stairs, the distinct feeling of stepping into villain’s lair crossing his mind for a second, almost expecting to see a bald man in a grey suit sitting in a swivelling chair with a white cat on his lap .</p>
<p>You’ve watched too many Bond-movies, he scolded himself and then stepped down the stairs until he reached the bottom and was faced with the before-mentioned door, indeed adorned by a bright red light that after a moment’s wait turned green. </p>
<p>The door itself did not look like the rest of the house, it was a sturdy piece made of mahogany and looked more like something that had been personally chosen than anything else he had seen so far.</p>
<p>Enter the dragon’s den, he thought as he turned the handle and pushed the door open before stepping inside.</p>
<p>The room itself was very bleak and spartan, consisting mostly of a large mahogany desk, not unlike the material of the door, a computer on one side and a globe in black and chrome on the other, a painting of the Queen in her younger years, dressed in royal regalia on the wall behind and then a simple chair in front of the desk, most likely put there to make any visitor feel inferior.</p>
<p>The sole occupant of the far larger chair behind the desk was no Bond villain but certainly not far off it either, minus the swivelling chair and the white cat.</p>
<p>He was thin-haired, his dark tresses as carefully arranged as they could possibly be for someone who didn’t have a lot to work with. It was difficult to tell how old he was as he had that sort of face where he must have looked beyond his years even as a young man, but most likely in his mid-thirties, perhaps even early forties. He had rather unremarkable features, looking like someone you would easily forget in a line up if ever confronted with him, a formidable nose but a soft chin with the tendency to become a double one if he tilted his head downwards just the slightest. <br/>His eyes were sharp and rather cold when he penetrated John with them, and they were possibly the most distinguishable feature in his appearance. Even if he wore what looked like bespoke clothes in the form of a dove grey three-piece suit, it seemed as if he had put in the effort to look anonymous, just like the house around him, and once again John was  hit with the idea that someone wanted it all to be forgettable for some reason. </p>
<p>Maybe John would think this had all been some strange dream when he woke up tomorrow morning….</p>
<p>At least his suspicions had been confirmed when he had entered the room and as he crossed the floor towards the desk he was tempted to utter: “Mr Holmes, I presume,” but refrained from doing so while he mentally trampled down his ever insistent wish to act out the general story plot of any Bond movie worth a watch. </p>
<p>The cold glimmer in the other man’s eyes told him that no introductions were forthcoming though and the only thing he did once John had reached his destination in front of the desk, standing as straight as he could, hands clasped behind his back as in front of a military inspection, was to nod in the direction of the chair and say:</p>
<p>“Won’t you sit down, Dr Watson? I’m told it has been quite the eventful day for you.”</p>
<p>His drawl was smooth and decidedly posh and John instinctively did not want to be seated in that uncomfortable looking chair like some sort of grateful servant in front of a master, so he merely shook his head. </p>
<p>He also noticed the use of his professional title again, like these people wanted to make a point of telling him that they knew who he truly was, as if it had all been some deeply hidden secret up until now on his part.</p>
<p>“Thank you, but I’ll stand, Mr Holmes,” he said curtly, making sure to include the name of the man in front of him to show that he wasn’t as clueless about who he was standing in front of as they probably assumed. He was certainly not going to allow himself to be intimidated by anyone who only by looking at him had made sure to make him feel very inferior.</p>
<p>This earned him a pair of raised eyebrows, but it seemed more like a mannerism than any actual surprise and it went unmentioned that John had correctly figured out the identity of the other man.</p>
<p>“Very well, as you wish. I’ll try to be succinct and get to the point straight away then.”</p>
<p>Mycroft clasped his hands in front of him on the desk and leaned forward a little bit, scrutinizing John like a laser beam, not even bothering to hide his obvious inspection. This immediately put John on edge and he pressed his lips tightly together and boldly stared right back.  Two could play this game and he was certainly not afraid to show how he felt about being looked upon like an insect pinned beneath a magnifying glass. </p>
<p>“Why don’t we start by you telling me about the event that took place around noon today?” Mycroft finally said.</p>
<p>John looked at him in surprise because this was not what he had expected this visit to be about.</p>
<p> How did Mycroft know anything about what had transpired between himself and that poor young man today? </p>
<p>No one had questioned him about it afterwards, so he was fairly sure no report had been written down by any of his superiors at work. In fact, beyond Freddie and the ambulance crew, it had felt like the whole experience had gone by rather unnoticed, not a single person had mentioned anything about it and he wasn’t even sure that anyone was aware that it had happened, even if the presence of an ambulance must have made some sort of impact in a place like that,  considering how well-equipped it was with the high gates and the surveillance cameras. </p>
<p>There had been no camera in the courtyard where he had found the young man though.</p>
<p>“What do you know about it?” he asked suspiciously but if this annoyed Mycroft, he didn’t let it show, his features remaining as impassive as before.</p>
<p>“I know that there was an incident that involved the presence of an ambulance and that you were the once to make the emergency call. I would appreciate if you could fill in the rest for me, Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>He resisted the urge to correct him and ask him to use Mr instead of Dr, out of sheer stubbornness, but then thought better of it. He was probably letting this whole strange situation get the better of him and there was no need to do so as long as he had no actual reason to feel on edge. </p>
<p>Instead he calmly and as effectively as he could, recounted the events that had transpired. </p>
<p>When he had finished Mycroft didn’t say anything for a long time and he also didn’t ask any further questions so after a while John began to wonder if he was silently being dismissed. Mycroft certainly seemed like the type of man who would swat away an unneeded presence with a simple hand gesture without a second thought about it. </p>
<p>But then Mycroft finally spoke and if possible, he sounded even more disinterested than he had previously, as John recount of today’s events had made no impact on him whatsoever. Maybe they hadn’t, maybe he had only worried about insurance or the breach in security.</p>
<p>But what he said suggested something different. </p>
<p>“I have a proposition for you Dr Watson. And before you decide to correct me for using your well-earned title you might just as well get used to it again if you decide to accept the offer I am about to make.”</p>
<p>He leaned back in his chair and intertwined his hands over his belly in a complacent manner, as if already sure of John’s acceptance which in turn made John certain that what he had told Mycroft about the incident had not exactly been news to him.</p>
<p>“Your actions today showed signs of quick thinking and the ability to act accordingly in a stressful situation. Those traits are surprisingly hard to come by, more so than you would imagine considering how many people I encounter on a regular basis in my line of work.”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but let a small snort escape as he remembered once again what Stamford had told him about the mystery surrounding Mycroft’s occupation. </p>
<p>“And what exactly <i>is</i> your line of work, Mr Holmes?” he quipped, but if he had expected a reaction he was once again denied a satisfactory response. </p>
<p>“My occupation is not of any importance in this matter. What I’m about to propose to you is of a more personal nature, Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>Before he could help himself, John blurted out:</p>
<p>“Well go ahead then, make me an offer I can’t refuse. “</p>
<p>Damn it! Personalizing a quote from the Godfather was hardly any better than quoting James Bond, but if Mycroft thought that he tried to make fun of the situation, he didn’t let it show, in fact he didn’t so much as bat an eyelid. Instead he just carried on as if John hadn’t said anything.</p>
<p>“The man you helped out today is actually my younger brother and the hospital where he is currently recuperating has informed that he would not have made it if you had not found him when you did and then acted in a way that helped keep him alive until the ambulance arrived. For that I’m most grateful.”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but let his eyes widen at these words. Both because he was surprised to find out that Mycroft was related to the young man, they certainly looked nothing alike, but also because a wave of sheer relief washed over him with the information that the person he had last seen being carried away on a stretcher had after all survived his ordeal. </p>
<p>John felt surprisingly happy to hear this even if he under any circumstances always felt relief when someone he had helped treating actually pulled through. This had been so unexpected though and he had not acted in the capacity of his professional role so the news that it had turned out alright made him feel almost giddy with relief. </p>
<p>It must have somehow manifested itself in his appearance because a twist of something indiscernible ghosted across Mycroft’s features as he looked at him. </p>
<p>“This is naturally happy news and as I said, we are very grateful for your resourcefulness. And as it happens, my brother is in the need of finding himself a personal physician since the previous holder of that position…well, decided to make better use of his time elsewhere…And that’s where you come in, Dr Watson. It is not a permanent position and it might not be much of any actual work, so it would be advisable that you remain in your current employment if you want to keep yourself occupied every day. But the pay is very generous and if you do a good job it might open up opportunities for advancement, perhaps a position similar to a friend of yours I believe, who works at the research facility.” </p>
<p>John nodded. </p>
<p>“Dr Stamford, yes,” he said, a glimmer of hope beginning to bloom inside his chest. Not that he was unhappy with his current position, but something more in line with his former field of expertise as well as better salary could improve his life in all kinds of areas. It was certainly a tempting thought.</p>
<p>“There is normally a two-year vetting process to even get considered for a position at the research facility but it could of course be arranged to accommodate you within a couple of months if you choose to accept this offer first and manage to keep my brother under your watchful eye for the duration of time that this service is needed. He is engaged to be married within four months and after the wedding his husband will most likely pick someone of his own choice for the job and you will be free to do as you please.”</p>
<p>That part about someone else being charge of another person’s medical care sounded a bit unorthodox and for a second John contemplated asking if there was something in the patient’s medical history that warranted that his brother and future husband were the ones making the decisions. The young man had certainly been of age so why were others micromanaging his life?  </p>
<p>He then remembered the track marks on the inside of the arms and wondered if perhaps the treatment of a drug addiction would be part of his job description. They had looked old but who knew with addicts, there were endless possibilities to get the desired substances into their system and no one was as resourceful as a substance abuser in dire need of a fix.</p>
<p>As if sensing his hesitance Mycroft decided to clarify his words.</p>
<p>“I understand that it might seem a bit old-fashioned to make arrangements like this, without the actual patient present. But as you will soon realise if you decide to take this assignment is that anything that doesn’t necessarily need to involve my brother will run much smoother, even things that has to do with him personally. As I’m sure you noticed, he is a former drug user, with emphasis on the word former. Yet nonetheless, as I sure you are aware of, considering your own family background, an addict is always an addict at heart and even if his addiction is dormant at the moment, who’s to say when he is going to fall prey to his desires the next time? I have been around too long to take anything for granted when it comes to this matter.”</p>
<p>John opened his mouth to stop him, because had he really alluded to John’s own sister when he had said “your own family background”? </p>
<p>How the hell did he know anything about her? Or was he just being oversensitive on account of the sore subject? Harry was a constant source for grief and anger on account of her excessive drinking, so it was possible that he had projected Mycroft’s words to his own situation. But if Mycroft had not meant Harry, what sort of family background could he otherwise have been alluding to?</p>
<p>But before John had the opportunity to voice his questions Mycroft raised a hand to prevent him from saying anything else until he had finished his own explanation. </p>
<p>“Beyond the drug issue we are talking about a person who has such a reckless personality that he should come with his own personal bodyguard just to keep him out of harms way. That has been tried by the way and I’m inclined to believe that his husband will opt for that solution once they are married, but I have never managed to hire anyone able to keep up with my brother, and I’m not convinced such a person actually exists. Therefor I have chosen to tackle the issue in a different approach by hiring someone to take care of his health instead of focusing on trying to speculate on what reckless things he will come up with next.”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but wonder if that recklessness had been the cause for the young man’s presence in a that courtyard today, a place he had no business being in, even if it was governed by his own brother. </p>
<p>John was beginning to realise that a wasp sting hardly was the most dangerous thing that had happened to him, even if the severity of his reaction had been bad enough. John couldn’t help but feel a bit curious about who this person actually was and what Mycroft considered to be such reckless behaviour. </p>
<p>“For various reasons he lives with me at the moment and will continue to do so until the wedding. What I expect of you, if you decide to except my proposition, is to come here twice a week to do a health check-up and then give me a written report afterwards. If anything happens to him beyond those two weekly instances that requires medical care you are naturally expected to come and perform your duties, but I suspect those occasions will not be too frequent. It’s more as a precautionary measure. The car will be at your disposal when your presence here is needed but otherwise you are to continue living in your current location and perform your normal duties until this assignment is finished. As I mentioned earlier, the pay will be significantly improved but that will also mean that your loyalties are with me and that your reports after each visit will be accurate and carefully written down before handed over to me. If I need to talk to you in person I expect you to be available and you are officially on duty 24 hours a day even if that will hardly be demanded of you, not even my brother manages to get up to something stupid at every single hour.”</p>
<p>He stopped for a second as if to see that John was keeping up with the flow of information that was being delivered. When no questions were raised, he continued in the same factual tone of voice.</p>
<p> “Before you feel inclined to mention patient confidentiality I can assure you that I have a document that allows me the legal right to take part in the care of my brother’s health, so there is no need to feel unsure of what you may or may not discuss with me when it comes to him. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is off limits.”</p>
<p>“That’s a bit..unusual....” John began but was immediately cut off.</p>
<p>“And yet those are the regulations of this arrangement. If it’s any consolation it is only for a limited amount of time and no one will ever hear of it afterwards. The wedding is soon upon us and you can then move on to other things. The arrangement can of course also be terminated by both parties if one of us find that we are not satisfied with the result, and you will also be able to keep your current employment if things don’t work out. The advantages are in your favour, not mine and yet I feel confident that my brother will be in capable hands if you decide to accept my offer and that means more to me than weighing the pros versus the cons.”</p>
<p>John hesitated, because it was really tempting to say yes and it would certainly be an improvement if he ended up landing that position at the research facility within a couple of months. </p>
<p>And if he was completely honest with himself, there was something bordering on excitement when he thought about the opportunity to spend some time with the man he had helped earlier today, based solely on appearance of course as he had nothing else to go on, but still, he was hardly going to deny that the man was attractive and John had felt very lonely for quite a while now. </p>
<p>The information that he was engaged to be married had been a bit disappointing though, even if John probably never would have decided to make a move towards a patient as long as he was working as his physician, he had some principles that he tended to stick to after all. </p>
<p>Still, he couldn’t deny that it was a tad unfortunate that the first interesting man he encountered since being discharged was not only taken but also a potential patient of his.</p>
<p>At the same time he was clear-headed enough to realise that no agreements should be accepted on such superficial grounds as him being slightly attracted to someone and here the disadvantages of the arrangement emerged. </p>
<p>The issue of control was quite obvious in this situation and it was honestly a bit daunting, whatever legal rights Mycroft Holmes claimed to have regarding his right to take an active part of his brother’s health and this didn’t agree well with John if he really thought about it. Even less so if he added the fact that his patient’s future husband was apparently planning to continue in a similar vein, although without the aid of John.  </p>
<p>And the reason for this whole arrangement still felt a bit unclear, despite the vague details Mycroft had offered him as a way of explanation. </p>
<p>It was all a bit extreme to be honest and was he really willing to take part in something he probably would never fully comprehend? </p>
<p>Mycroft was clearly a man of secrecy and John realised that he most likely hadn’t been presented with the full truth of the situation and that was a bit too risky for his taste. </p>
<p>So he had two options here – put on blindfolds and perform his duties without asking any further questions, hopefully enjoy the company of his patient and then reap the reward of a promotion afterwards. </p>
<p>Or he could decline the offer, go back to the barrack and continue with his work as if this had never happened, principles intact but most likely wondering how it would have been if he had accepted the offer after all. He would not be worse off if he declined but as he was a man who secretly thrived when things were unexpected and exciting, he would probably end up regretting his decision sooner or later. </p>
<p>Being a person who seldom backed away from a challenge, he knew what the answer had to be. </p>
<p>“Fine, I’ll accept your terms.” he heard himself say and a hint of satisfaction crossed Mycroft’s features for a second, probably the most sincere emotion he had displayed during their entire meeting. John couldn’t help but feel his stomach churn at the sight of it, as if he had somehow walked straight into a trap without realising it. What that trap consisted of remained unclear though.</p>
<p>Mycroft reached down to pull out a document from a drawer as well as presenting a fountain pen from a box next to the computer.</p>
<p>“On account of my own position as well as that of my future brother in law, it is necessary to sign a contract of secrecy as assurance that all of this remains confidential. I hope that won’t be problem?”</p>
<p>John dryly noted that Mycroft had not mentioned his brother’s rights to secrecy in the matter, first and foremost <i>his</i> rights should be the reason for signing anything, not Mycroft’s position or the man who was going to marry his brother within four months. John couldn’t care less about their positions and the fact that Mycroft insisted on him signing this on their account rankled him. </p>
<p>But for his patient’s sake he decided to do it anyway. Maybe he could find a way to dig deeper into the situation and see if everything was as it should be. If not, he would do anything in his power to be of assistance if needed.</p>
<p>He signed the document and pushed it back towards Mycroft who picked it up, gave it a close scrutiny and the put it away again. While looking at him doing this, John was suddenly hit by something he hadn’t thought of asking earlier.</p>
<p>“What’s your brother’s name?”</p>
<p>Mycroft looked up from the still open drawer, as if surprised by the question or because John had bothered to ask in the first place. Maybe he was used to people not caring beyond the grand pay check.</p>
<p>“Sherlock. His name is Sherlock. He prefers to be addressed by his first name and not Mr Holmes. So if you could abide to that rule....?”</p>
<p>John nodded as he made a mental note of that.</p>
<p>“He will remain in hospital tonight  but will arrive here at nine tomorrow morning and I expect you to be here to greet him,” Mycroft continued. “A car will pick you up at a quarter past eight and your meeting will take as long as necessary. I’ll inform your supervisor of your absence and afterwards I’ll be expecting your first rapport before the evening. You will be given access to his medical journal after your meeting and whatever questions you might have I’ll be willing to provide them for you if I can.”</p>
<p>“Anything to keep in mind before I meet with him?” John asked.</p>
<p>“Nothing unusual, but don’t let him manipulate you into doing anything beyond your medical duties and don’t believe everything he tells you, his imagination has always been decidedly vivid. And try not to be too offended by his way of speaking, it’s mostly bark and no bite even if his tongue is considered razor-sharp. My brother has received his education from a few of the finest schools in the country and yet managed to sail through without learning any basic social rules at all when it comes to interacting with other people. Many consider him to be quite eccentric, but I guess that depends on what you expect people to be like. My suggestion is that you focus solely on your duties and less on trying to grasp what kind of person he is and try to remember where your loyalties are in this matter.”</p>
<p>“My loyalties are to myself, Mr Holmes.”</p>
<p>“As they should. But keep it that way, no matter what he might try to persuade you into believing. I have known him my whole life and I have yet to learn how to not allow him to get under my skin, he is the only one who can reduce me to a person who occasionally <i>cares</i>.”</p>
<p>He put as much disdain into that last word as he possibly could and John wondered if it was true or simply an act on his account, to prove that he did all this for his brother’s sake and not because of some hidden agenda. John wasn’t completely sure what to make of it.</p>
<p>“I’ll try to not disappoint, Mr Holmes,” he simply said, keeping his thoughts to himself .</p>
<p> “That’s all anyone can wish for, Dr Watson,” Mycroft concluded. “Hopefully, you will be a good influence on him. Lord knows he needs it.” </p>
<p>Then he rose from his chair and extended his hand for John to shake.</p>
<p> “I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning.” </p>
<p>John walked up to him and shook the extended hand as if to seal their agreement, looking nothing but composed while secretly trying to supress the feeling of unease beginning to unfurl inside his abdomen. </p>
<p>Because even if this was a fair deal that could very well lead to good opportunities in the future if he performed his expected duties well, why did it also feel like he was striking up a deal with the devil?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A talk between brothers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The corridor leading up to the ward where Sherlock was admitted was more or less empty by this time in the evening. Visiting hours were technically over but as usual an exception had been made on his account and as he strode down the hall the sound of his shoes as well as the tip of his umbrella touching the floor with each step announced his arrival to the occupant of the room where he was headed. </p>
<p>He knew Sherlock was not asleep, he hardly ever was at this hour and Mycroft wanted him to be aware that repercussions were coming very shortly. </p>
<p>Ever since the hospital had called to inform him of his brother’s admittance he had experienced a whole string of emotions that only Sherlock was ever capable of bringing out in him – everything from shock, worry, anger, then anguish quickly turning into relief and actual happiness for a brief moment when he was informed that Sherlock was doing fine and would be released the next morning. </p>
<p>The only lingering emotion he still felt now, despite the satisfactory meeting with Dr Watson earlier this evening, was anger. </p>
<p>Because this was so typically Sherlock, even if Mycroft did realise that the sting of a wasp hardly was his brother’s fault. None of them had even been aware that he was allergic until now, so that was another factor to put on the list of things that were dangerous and lethal for his brother to be exposed to. </p>
<p>That list was beginning to grow quite extensive by now....</p>
<p>He opened the door into the room with the tip of his umbrella, reluctant to touch things if not strictly necessary. He had harboured feelings of aversion towards hospitals ever since he had been young and a five-year-old Sherlock had been admitted on account of a severe case of meningitis. That had been the first time he had looked down upon his brother lying in a hospital bed and feared that he would never get out of it again. </p>
<p>There had been plenty of opportunities to experience that same scenario over the years and he always felt just as uncomfortable being put through it, because this was a place where someone like him with all the power he had at his disposal still had no impact over anything – he was helplessly in the hands of the medical staff just like everyone else, with no way of predicting the outcome.</p>
<p>He looked at the figure in the bed while he remained for a moment standing by the door. </p>
<p>As usual he had mixed feelings when seeing Sherlock like this. </p>
<p>In his mind he would always be the incorrigible little brother with the wild hair and equally wild temperament that made Mycroft’s life a never ending string of headaches and worry, but at the same time he was the only person Mycroft actually cared for. </p>
<p>In his teenage years the lack of feelings towards others had bothered him a little bit, but as he had grown older he had realised the value of not having any emotional strings attached to anyone, because sentiment was always a liability in the end and Mycroft was content to keep his distance and never truly get involved.</p>
<p> He was perfectly capable of acting in the interest of the general public and his country but he had no further interest in participating in their lives beyond that. </p>
<p>With the one exception currently lying in that hospital bed in front of him who had somehow wormed his way into the decidedly small core pumping out blood to his system and put up residence there while the logical part of Mycroft’s brain screamed at him about the foolery of letting anyone gain access to something as intimate as his heart. </p>
<p>Too late for that, there was only the option of surviving the onslaught of conflicting feelings that this person had the bad taste of provoking in him every once in a while, and then ride it out, every damn time. </p>
<p>Sherlock was likely a person who would continue to provoke the people around him until he drew his last breath, to Mycroft bitter chagrin, even if he secretly hoped that marriage would manage to slow his brother down at least a little bit. </p>
<p>“Why are you standing there like a spectre, ogling at me?” came a familiar if somewhat raspy voice from the bed and Mycroft took a few steps forward, letting his usual mask of distant complacency fall back into place.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t sure what to expect walking in here. I heard that something as insignificant as a wasp was almost able to kill you today. I always assumed you would be killed by pirates or from sticking your nose into the business of a gang of highway men. You always were a person suited to die from an utterly outlandish reason.”</p>
<p>Sherlock snorted at that but refrained from answering, which was unusual for him, so Mycroft took another few steps forward to take a closer look at him. </p>
<p>He looked pale, well paler than usual, and there were signs of him having been put through some slightly rough handling, probably on account of the emergency situation. </p>
<p>Mycroft wondered if it was Dr Watson or someone from the medical team that had caused the bruises. The doctor had seemed calm enough in Mycroft’s presence even during such unusual circumstances, danger apparently made him stoic for some reason, so likely this was the cause of some slightly inexperienced staff member from the ambulance or from the hospital. </p>
<p>It didn’t matter in the end, they had all pulled through for Mycroft’s little brother and he felt endlessly grateful for it. The medical staff had wanted Sherlock to stay put for observation a bit longer than just over night but he had naturally refused, because Sherlock actually hated hospitals even more than Mycroft did, so tomorrow he would have to walk these corridors again to pick him up and take him home. </p>
<p>By the small table next to the bed a large bouquet of red roses were placed in a vase and Mycroft couldn’t help but wonder where they had come from as he had not mentioned to anyone that Sherlock had been admitted. It had not seemed relevant to worry others about the situation when he was getting home so early anyway, not even his fiancé who was currently away on some business trip and did not need the distraction on account of something so trivial as a wasp sting, however close to lethal that sting had actually turned out to be. </p>
<p>But somehow he must have been informed anyway because the card attached to the bouquet had his distinctive expressions written upon it, the words <i>my precious Sherlock </i> standing out specifically as a phrase often used by the future husband to be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mycroft suppressed a shudder as he abhorred the use of such flowery language even if it was between a couple about to get married, and he turned his eyes back on his brother instead.</p>
<p>There was an outstretched silence where he kept looking at his brother and Sherlock stubbornly continued to ignore him by keeping his eyes closed as if pretending to have fallen asleep. </p>
<p>Finally Mycroft let out a tired sigh.</p>
<p>“Could you for once just act accordingly and stop playing theatrics? I can hear from your breathing pattern that you’re clearly awake. Just let us get this over with, you know I won’t let it go anyway.”</p>
<p>Sherlock opened one eye to peer at him as if trying to suss out how upset Mycroft actually was and when realising that he apparently was very displeased he opened the other eye as well and sat up straighter in his bed.</p>
<p>“Fine, get on with it then. I got nothing better to do apparently. Like focusing on regaining my strength and recuperating for example. But no, big brother is about to throw a tantrum and needs must it seems.  So do your best Mycroft, unleash all that pent-up anger you’re holding up inside, I’m perfectly ready for the onslaught.”</p>
<p>Mycroft pulled a tired grimace.</p>
<p>“How droll.... Couldn’t you just for once take things a little seriously without acting like a child of five?”</p>
<p>Sherlock immediately  feigned ignorance.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you mean, I’m just lying here.”</p>
<p>Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a second to supress the rising annoyance before he uttered the next words through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>“What where you doing breaking into my property today? Wasp sting or not, you had no business being there, as I have told you on numerous occasions before.”</p>
<p>His brother's eyes narrowed at once, clearly not done with being a nuisance.</p>
<p>“I really don’t understand what the secrecy is all about, what exactly are you hiding in that research facility of yours, Mycroft? Afraid that I might uncover you to be in charge of some sordid business that won’t stand the light of exposure?”</p>
<p>“None of your business, stop trying to sway from answering my question,” Mycroft answered coldly, not willing to rise to the bait. But naturally Sherlock was not willing to let it go. In a contemplating manner he tilted his head to the side.</p>
<p>“Are you building your own human race perhaps? A new kind of species who are willing to follow your every demand and behave like your own personal minions? Do the taxpayers know that you’re trying to play God with their hard-earned money to fund you?”</p>
<p>“Stop it!”</p>
<p>“<i>Touchy</i>. Did I hit a nerve?”</p>
<p>Mycroft suddenly lashed forward so his face ended up inches from Sherlock’s, his eyes fiery with anger.</p>
<p>“Do you know how close it was that you actually died today and no one would have would have been able to help you as you had once again sneaked out without permission and abandoned all sense of security!”</p>
<p>Sherlock had the audacity to look affronted by the accusation.</p>
<p>“It was hardly <i>my</i> fault that I was stung by a wasp!”</p>
<p>“No, but it most certainly was your fault that it happened in a courtyard where no one was even aware of your presence. Had it been in our garden at home things would not have turned so dramatic, people would have been able to help you out quicker. Did you know that if that doctor fellow hadn’t happened to come by when he did and acted so quickly, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation because you would be lying on a slab in the morgue right now!”</p>
<p>If there was the slightest hint of a tremble in his voice they both ignored it and Sherlock was not showing any signs of being chastened by his brother’s words.</p>
<p>The urge to give his insolent brother a good slap across the cheek was for a second overwhelming and Mycroft raised himself up to a standing position again and took a step back to prevent that from happening.</p>
<p>“I have decided to hire him as your private physician for the final couple of months before the wedding. It was the least I could do to reward him.”</p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a curious look.</p>
<p>“Did he actually ask for a reward?”</p>
<p>“It’s a reward he isn’t aware that he has accepted. He is one of those people with enough principles to never accept a compensation openly for something he didn’t see as anything beyond performing his duty. He thinks I offered him a deal when in reality I could have picked any doctor of my own choosing to look out for you. It was the only way to repay him somehow. He will get a promotion for his troubles if he sticks it out with you, so try keeping that in mind before you unleash your most hair-brained shenanigans upon him. He is after all the reason you’re still breathing right now.”</p>
<p>Now it was Sherlock's turn to look annoyed.</p>
<p>“Don’t try to guilt-trip me into acting the way you want me to by making me take him into consideration, I never asked for you to hire him. Frankly I don’t see the point of a private physician anyway.”</p>
<p>“No you wouldn’t as you constantly make sure that they resign before being able to prove their worth. And don’t think I won’t replace this one with a name from my own personal list of appropriate candidates to baby sit you until you walk down that aisle and take your vows, if you manage to drive him away.”</p>
<p>A snort came from the bed.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll try to take that into consideration as I continue conducting my own life in the very limited way you have allowed me to.”</p>
<p>“You know that is for your own good....”</p>
<p>Sherlock narrowed his eyes even further, a sharp response about to spill out of his mouth when he suddenly changed his mind and dramatically turned away from  Mycroft in a clearly dismissal gesture instead. As if to bring home that point he also draped himself deeper into his blanket.</p>
<p>“Keep telling yourself that and one day you might believably be able to convince yourself that it’s actually true,” he murmured.</p>
<p>“You know that your safety is my biggest concern, Sherlock.”</p>
<p>“Mm, I guess that’s why you’re marrying me off....”</p>
<p>“Don’t be absurd!”</p>
<p>“The only thing absurd around here is your insistence that you do things for the sake of others. For that to be true you would need a shred of compassion and I’m afraid you’re sorely lacking in that department.”</p>
<p>“Stones in glass houses, Sherlock....”</p>
<p>“Hardly. I don’t pretend to be anything beyond what I present to the world. You have a mask of self-complacency permanently glued to your face. You always say that sentiment is a weakness, so it seems a bit rich to suddenly claim that you actually care about anyone beyond yourself.”</p>
<p>Mycroft sighed. They had engaged in this topic on numerous occasions but somehow they always ended up at this very same stand point. He was too tired and angry to take the bait this time though so he straightened his features into neutrality instead and prepared himself for this evening’s farewell. He would bring up the reason for his brother intrusion into the research facility tomorrow but he realised that he was not going to get any answers tonight. </p>
<p>“I’ll come to pick you up tomorrow morning. You will meet with your new doctor at nine. And do try to be grateful for his services, he seems like a sensible man. I’m certain you were too busy with your wasp sting to notice but if you give him some time I’m sure you can manage to tolerate his visits for the remaining months to come. Good night little brother, and do try to actually get some sleep tonight. We wouldn’t want his first assignment to be catching you as you faint from fatigue.”</p>
<p>With that Mycroft turned around and walked out of the room, knowing that Sherlock would be listening for his receding steps to disappear before turning his back to face the room again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Time for a health examination</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a night of very little sleep John paced in front of the barrack, waiting for the car to pick him up and take him to his new patient. </p>
<p>His mind was still reeling from the information he had received yesterday, it all felt a bit vague and nothing Mycroft had told him had really cleared anything up. In fact his words had managed to create even more question marks instead of diminishing them and in the middle of it all the brothers lingered in his thoughts, like two vague creatures that tried shedding some light over an otherwise shrouded situation but unfortunately failed to do so.</p>
<p>The car came punctually at a quarter past eight as Mycroft had told him last night. </p>
<p>John climbed into the backseat and felt the humming sensation of expectancy as he was driven the short ride over to the large house he had visited yesterday. But this time he was not brought inside and Mycroft was not there to greet him.</p>
<p>Instead he was shown to the garden he had seen glimpses of round the back of the house, accompanied by a short, jittery man with a briefcase who nervously remained close by despite John’s reassurances that his presence hardly was necessary.</p>
<p>“I know Mr Holmes seems to be a stickler for protocol but it’s not essential for you to stay on my account, I can very well handle meeting my patient alone,” he tried but despite this, the other man stubbornly remained where he was. </p>
<p>Soon enough voices were heard and as John turned he saw the young man he had rescued come walking up towards him across the pathway in long strides, wearing the same white shirt he had worn yesterday, evident from the black fingerprints John had left on the fabric while performing CPR, curls lightly billowing in the morning breeze and looking very different from the lifeless body John had found on the ground between the two containers. </p>
<p>Behind him, in a far more dignified pace, nowhere near as swiftly and energetically as his brother, came Mycroft, confident in his steps but certainly in no hurry.</p>
<p>Once he had reached his destination Sherlock completely ignored John for the sake of the jittery man. Accusingly he pointed a finger towards him while he addressed his brother.</p>
<p>“What is <i>he</i> doing here?”</p>
<p>Mycroft chose to ignore his brother's question by focusing on John instead and nodded in greeting.</p>
<p>“Good morning Dr Watson. I hope you’ve slept well,” he said as if John’s lack of sleep was written across his features and he wanted to make a point of showing that he could tell.</p>
<p>Before John had the opportunity to answer though, Sherlock once again brought attention back to what he found more important than anyone’s sleeping habits.</p>
<p>“Mycroft, if you want me to do this you better call off your lap dog, I’m not doing anything with him present!”</p>
<p>Mycroft sighed and turned his eyes to look at his brother.</p>
<p>“You’re being paranoid, dear brother....” he began but Sherlock was clearly having none of it, his previously bright expression replaced by a sulky glare and John couldn’t help but wonder about their dynamic. They acted like children in front of him, with no care how that made them look and if he had imagined himself getting some sort of initial positive contact with his patient on their first official meeting, he had clearly miscalculated. Sherlock did not seem like a man who bothered too much with polite interaction. </p>
<p>Right now Mycroft was not fairing that much better. John could sense some sibling rivalry going on between them, not too far off from the way he and Harry addressed each other occasionally, with the exception that they did it in private, not amongst others.</p>
<p>“If he doesn’t leave, I’ll walk away!” Sherlock loudly exclaimed.</p>
<p>The brothers locked eyes and a silent battle of wills began between them that John had no idea what to make off. </p>
<p>From what he could gather no one was willing to yield though and he cast a curious glance at the man with the briefcase, wondering who he actually was and why he made Sherlock so uncomfortable.</p>
<p>The one to finally terminate the stale mate was Mycroft who broke eye contact by nodding towards the stranger.</p>
<p>“Fine. If you would so kind, Mr Judd.....”</p>
<p>Quickly the man opened the briefcase and to John’s utter bewilderment he picked up a large jar with a wasp inside it, angrily buzzing against the glass confinement.</p>
<p>John turned towards the brothers with a “what the bloody hell is going on here??!”-look but naturally none of the others so much a blinked to acknowledge this new turn of events, not even Sherlock. In fact, he looked like he had rather expected this unorthodox twist.</p>
<p>The brothers continued to stare at each other for a long stretch of time until Sherlock finally hissed through gritted teeth:</p>
<p>“<i>Fine</i>, you’ve made your point. You can put the jar away now.”</p>
<p>But the jittery man holding the jar did not move, clearly waiting for his employer to give him direct orders if he was to do anything and anger flared in Sherlock’s eyes when Mycroft remained impassive.</p>
<p>“Really, Mycroft? Do you want me to <i>actually</i> put my hand inside that jar just to prove that you’re right?”</p>
<p>John’s eyed widened in shock because what the hell was happening here? Did Mycroft actually intend to force his little brother to stick a hand inside a jar with a wasp inside it, no less than a day after he had been admitted to hospital on account of anaphylactic shock due to the sting of that very same insect?? </p>
<p>Instinctively he moved forward to prevent such cruel idiocy from happening.</p>
<p>For a second it looked like Mycroft was going to stop him and John narrowed his eyes while clenching his fists, but then, as if a shadow had passed, the older brother suddenly waived his hand in a dismissive gesture towards the jar and Mr Judd put it back inside the briefcase and then quietly walked away, as if this had all been a carefully rehearsed play where everyone but John had been given a script.</p>
<p>Mycroft turned a stern face to address his brother, a decidedly cold tone in his voice as he spoke.</p>
<p>“We’re not done talking about this, Sherlock. When you and Dr Watson are finished, I expect you in my office with a good explanation of yesterday’s events. And do not even consider not showing up, you know I have methods of obtaining you if you defy my orders.”</p>
<p>He then turned towards John and nodded, his features showing no sign of the harsh words he had just uttered.</p>
<p>“Good luck, Dr Watson. I’ll be expecting your report later today.”</p>
<p>After that he strode off, leaving John with his mouth mentally gaping in bafflement while Sherlock was throwing daggers at his retreating back.</p>
<p>Once he was gone John turned to his patient, eyes wide in bewilderment. The wish to raise his voice and throw his arm up in the air to vent this frustration for being kept in the dark was for a second overwhelming. Maybe the childish antics of his patient was rubbing off on him as well?</p>
<p>“What was that all about?”</p>
<p>“Just Mycroft being Mycroft,” Sherlock muttered absently, thoughts clearly still lingering on what had just happened.</p>
<p>“What does <i>that</i> mean? Was he seriously considering forcing you to put your hand inside that jar? Surely, he was joking? A really bad joke, but still a joke, right?”</p>
<p>Sherlock shrugged and finally turned his eyes to actually look at John properly for the first time since arriving.</p>
<p>“Who knows? He probably wanted to, the only thing preventing him from doing it would have been the redundancy of such an act when he had already managed to bring his point across. And perhaps your presence as well, he has always been keen on keeping up appearances.”</p>
<p>John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. </p>
<p>“But you nearly died yesterday from a wasp sting!”</p>
<p>“Well, no....” Sherlock began but was immediately cut off.</p>
<p>“Yes! I was there, I witnessed your struggle, you had trouble breathing, your lips were actually blue! I inserted the bloody adrenaline shot myself!”</p>
<p>“Oh you did save my life, thank you for that by the way, but it was not caused by a wasp sting. And Mycroft obviously knows that, which is the reason for putting up this whole charade just to prove to me that he knows. He must have somehow figured it out after leaving the hospital, he certainly didn’t say anything about it last night.”</p>
<p>John could feel his thoughts spinning because he knew what he had seen yesterday and to prove to himself that it had been real, he stepped forward and forewent any rules about personal boundaries by actually reaching out to tilt Sherlock’s head a little to get a better view. </p>
<p>But where there had yesterday been a clear red swollen mark was now nothing beyond a long pale neck. Not so much as a birth mark in sight.</p>
<p>“What the hell.....” he blurted out and at the sight of his surprised outburst Sherlock’s mouth twitched a little in amusement.</p>
<p>“You won’t be able to figure it out you know, but your theory about the wasp sting was a pretty good one, so you’re not as incompetent as many of your predecessors,” he said and John’s eyebrows shot up. Was that supposed to be a compliment wrapped in an insult or vice versa? </p>
<p>He shook his head and told himself to stay professional. At least for a little while longer.</p>
<p>“Had many of those, did you? Doctors I mean.” he said instead.</p>
<p>“Endless.....” Sherlock admitted, still almost childishly giving that teasing half-smile that made his eyes glimmer with mirth. He looked very young and unguarded for a second and John felt something twitch inside him, but then told himself no.....</p>
<p>Not a patient. Never a patient.</p>
<p>So instead he cleared his throat and decided to ignore whatever bodily responses the other man elicited in him by remaining  seemingly unmoved.</p>
<p>“Your brother mentioned that you could be quite a handful.”</p>
<p>“I bet he did,” and with that the smile was gone from Sherlock’s lips again and John regretted bringing up Mycroft as it clearly was a sensitive subject. In an effort to backtrack he decided to explain himself a little</p>
<p>“Don’t worry. I’m not prone to listening to family members telling me what to think, I like to make my own decisions based on my own perceptions. “</p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a doubtful look.</p>
<p>“He <i>is</i> the man who signs your employment checks though. And he alluded to you reporting back to him afterwards. My brother can be very forceful when he wants something. People rarely have the power to deny him.”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but give the younger man a challenging look.</p>
<p>“Is that supposed to scare me off?”</p>
<p>“Did it work?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a glimpse of that half-smile again before he turned on his heel and began to walk towards the house. </p>
<p>“Very well. Not many can say that they don't fear my brother and actually mean it. You’re either incredibly stupid or very smart, time will tell I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Gee, thanks,” John muttered and hurried after him, a little haste in his steps as the other man took lengthy strides with his long legs. At least, being a few steps behind meant that he got a good view of something he had not been privy to yesterday. A very firm ass beneath some very tight-fitting dress pants that moved enticingly as Sherlock hastily walked through the front door and then headed up the stairs to a second floor.</p>
<p><i>Get a grip of yourself!</i> John reprimanded himself but still stole a final lingering look before focusing on his surroundings instead.</p>
<p>The rest of the house was almost as anonymous as what he had seen last night and as Sherlock seemed to be so frank when he talked, John decided to be the same way by mentioning the observation he had made regarding the lack of interior details in the house.</p>
<p>“Mm, it is awfully boring. It’s my brother’s taste, he likes it when things are <i>beige</i>. He hated the flat where I used to live with even more passion than I hate this place.”</p>
<p>John made a mental note of the fact that Sherlock apparently had been living in a place of his own previously but now for some reason was living with his brother. But he decided to save some of the questions he had for later, it seemed a bit much to put his patient through an actual interrogation on their very first appointment.  </p>
<p>Sherlock continued up to a third floor where he then turned left.</p>
<p>“This is where my room is. As far away from my brother’s domain as possible. We would probably kill each other otherwise. When we grew up, we used to share the same floor in our parents house. Mycroft still has the scars on his left shin to prove what a bad idea that was. They removed my scalpels after that.”</p>
<p>John chuckled but then stopped abruptly when he realised that Sherlock wasn’t joking. </p>
<p>An image quickly flashed through his head of Mycroft and Sherlock as children, Sherlock wielding a scalpel, Mycroft impecabbly dressed in a school uniform, horror in his eyes as he tried to escape on chubby legs, while their parents like the upper-class couple John presumed them to be, where sipping tea in the parlour, far away from their combative offspring. </p>
<p>Sherlock opened a door and then strode in, making a welcoming gesture for John to follow. </p>
<p>“We can do the examination in here. Not that you’ll find anything beyond a perfectly healthy man of 27 but I guess you still have to write that report to Mycroft so we might just as well get on with it.”</p>
<p>If the rest of the house was very bare and minimalistic, this room was quite the opposite. It had probably been like the rest of the house once because there were still signs of the pristine furniture beneath all the chaos that was now dominating the room, but presumably Sherlock had done his very best to erase whatever Mycroft had tried to achieve with his bland interior design. </p>
<p>Books everywhere, different types of magazines and stacks of paper, little knickknacks of strange items like a stuffed bat in a glass encasing, some sort of homemade chemistry set that felt like it should come with its own safety warning and then, to John’s disbelief, an actual human skull residing on what from the beginning must have been an uncluttered white shelf that now was barely visible beneath the mess that the occupant of the room had spread out on top of it. </p>
<p>It was even difficult to say what sort of room this actually was, there was no bed in there so it was not his bedroom but it did not look like a living room either as the only place where to sit was a chair in front of a microscope next to the chemistry set. </p>
<p>Maybe the residence of a mad scientist was the most fitting description, even if a few items of clothing as well as a bust of Goethe, a violin stand and the actual instrument itself also took up some space of the room. </p>
<p>The bewilderment must have been obvious in his features because Sherlock looked at him and then at the room as if seeing the mess for the very first time through another person’s eyes and then picked up a few papers as if to stuff them away, only to realise that there was no place to put them so he simply put them down again on top of an already staggering  pile of old magazines.</p>
<p>“Um, yes, it’s a bit....” he began, for a second looking a bit lost for words, as if the state of the room had never occurred to him before although realistically speaking a lot of people must have been here before John. </p>
<p>Perhaps it had been something in the look John had presented that made him suddenly very aware of this being somewhat chaotic. </p>
<p>“Messy?” John tried and made his way over to a small footstool hidden beneath a box of test tubes. </p>
<p>“It’s not messy, it’s perfectly organized to my liking. There is a system to it.”</p>
<p>“Mm, I can see that.....you know where everything is, do you?”</p>
<p>“Perfectly well. I never waste my time looking for things in here.”</p>
<p>“It’s a bit dusty though...”</p>
<p>“That’s by choice. It helps me to see if anyone has been snooping in here without my permission. A break in the dust line means that someone has been touching and moving my things. As I am the only one allowed to do that, the dust is like a cheap but effective security precaution.”</p>
<p>And there the familiarity between the brothers finally made itself known. A bit paranoid the both of them apparently.</p>
<p>“And why would anyone be interested in breaking into your room to look through your things?” John couldn’t help but ask.</p>
<p>“Oh, you would be surprised....” Sherlock mumbled but did not elaborate any further. </p>
<p>“Well, I think your lungs would appreciate some fresh air nonetheless,” John decided and turned to face the large windows, looking for a way to open at least one of them.</p>
<p>“You won’t be able to get any fresh air through those, they’re firmly sealed. Another safety precaution, but not mine but my brother’s.”</p>
<p>John openly shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it.</p>
<p>“Are you serious? Which one of you is the most paranoid, you or him?”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s <i>definitely</i>him. I’m not paranoid, I’m just taking the occasional logical safety measure. He on the other hand has a pathological need to be in constant control of absolutely everything, his whole being radiates from an obsessive desire to stick his abnormally large nose in other people’s affairs. What do you think he hired you for?”</p>
<p>“I’m here as your doctor, nothing more. If he wanted a spy he chose the wrong candidate.” </p>
<p>If Sherlock believed him or not was unclear, but at least he didn’t say anything further about the matter. Instead he sat down on the only chair in the room and expectantly looked at John.</p>
<p>“So, I see you didn’t bring anything with you, how do you suggest that we proceed with this?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t bring anything for the simple reason that I was hired yesterday evening and the only thing I have left from my medical days is packed away in a self-storage in Hounslow. But I can check for vitals all the same, take notes of some basic information and then make sure to be better equipped the next time.”</p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a quick scrutiny.</p>
<p>“Is it a gift from a family member?” he then said.</p>
<p>John frowned in confusion.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“The medical bag you have stored away in Hounslow?”</p>
<p>Now John’s eyes actually narrowed.</p>
<p>“How do you know that it’s a medical bag?”</p>
<p>“What else could it be? You mentioned yourself that it was something related to your former profession and it’s obviously something you cherish enough not to want to dispose of, despite the unfortunate ending to your career as an army doctor. You don’t strike me as a particularly sentimental person but this has some value to you, so my guess is that it’s a medical bag either gifted to you from a family member or relative or even possibly a heirloom you don't want to get rid off even if its presence pained you enough to decide to put it away in a self- storage.“</p>
<p>John looked at him speechlessly for a second. Then he nodded his head in acknowledgement.</p>
<p>“It was a gift from my father. I received it when I graduated from medical school. It used to belong to an uncle who worked as a doctor, so in a way it’s both an heirloom as well as a gift, so you got it right on both accounts.”</p>
<p>For a second Sherlock looked pleased, and John felt that tingling sensation again, it felt oddly satisfying to see Sherlock look so happy. Perhaps because he had seen him under such awful circumstances the first time they had met it was now rewarding to see him look so alive.</p>
<p>And speaking of their first encounter.....</p>
<p>“What did you mean when you said that I would not be able to figure out what happened to you yesterday? You said it wasn’t caused by a wasp. If not, then what promted your reaction?”</p>
<p>The smile that played on Sherlock’s lips lingered for a second longer before he replied.</p>
<p>“Considering that what I tell you goes into a report that will later be read by my brother I don’t think that I am going to tell you. There is a possibility that he has figured it out himself by now but if not, I’m not helping him out with any further details. So, sorry doctor, you will have to settle with the knowledge that I’m not allergic to bees or wasps. If I was, he would not had made his point by bringing that jar. He would never openly try to kill me you know. Too many witnesses to deal with afterwards.”</p>
<p>He winked when uttering that last sentence, as if attempting to make a joke and yet John couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else beneath those words. It was difficult to tell who Sherlock was trying to convince the most, himself or John.</p>
<p>“I also assume it would upset your parents if he decided to kill you,” John concluded as he kept his eyes on the other man to see his reaction.</p>
<p>But Sherlock simply shrugged, unaffected</p>
<p>“Mm, if they were still around to be upset by anything, I guess they would be.”</p>
<p>John felt a sting of guilt even if Sherlock didn’t look upset. </p>
<p>John’s own parents had been dead for many years and he only had his sister left who he wasn’t particularly close to, so he knew the feeling of not having any family members around, of not having somewhere to return to or someone to call when life had decided to chew you up and spit you out. </p>
<p>Like it had been for him after Afghanistan. </p>
<p>But if Sherlock felt the same way, he didn’t show it. Once again he simply ended the conversation by not answering and this time John actually felt grateful for it. </p>
<p>Deciding to get things going he walked up to Sherlock and nodded towards his arm. </p>
<p>It felt like the need to ask for permission to perform whatever examination he could manage without instruments was a bit redundant, it was like they were already pretty comfortable around each other for some reason, so instead of asking he simply reached out and grabbed one of the slender wrists to check his pulse.</p>
<p>Then he picked up his phone to shine into the young man’s eyes and ears, told him to stick his tongue out, felt for any swollen lymph nodes on the neck and then asked the usual questions regarding use of medicine, sleeping and eating habits as well as use of tobacco and alcohol, height and weight and so forth.</p>
<p>“You’re a bit on the downside regarding your weight and the smoking is certainly something I would strongly recommend you quit. But otherwise, as you told me, you seem perfectly healthy according to the limited ways I was able to examine you today. Next time will be more thorough of course but I’m not expecting to find anything unexpected then either. Quite frankly it makes me wonder why your brother insists on you having your own personal physician to check on you twice a week. It seems a bit...... unnecessary.”</p>
<p>Sherlock shrugged.</p>
<p>“What reason did he give you?”</p>
<p>“Well, he said you were very reckless and often got yourself into a lot of trouble. Besides, when he and I had our little meeting we were both still under the illusion that you were in hospital on account of anaphylactic shock from a wasp sting. Since you won’t tell me the actual reason for your health scare yesterday I can’t tell you if the true circumstances are better or worse. For me as your physician it’s certainly worse to not know what caused that reaction.”</p>
<p>“No reason to worry about it, that particular scenario won’t happen again. Besides, my brother will be watching me like a hawk, so I won’t be able to make any break-ins for a while anyway.”</p>
<p> John snorted at the blatant brazenness of such a statement.</p>
<p>“Why were you breaking into your brother’s research facility in the first place?”</p>
<p>“If you had a brother with his very own top-secret research facility, wouldn’t you at least make the attempt to figure out what’s going on in there?”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but laugh at that.</p>
<p>“He might as well have put up a sign asking you to do your best.”</p>
<p>“Exactly! The problem is that he is far too controlling about his things. He never was prone to sharing, even as a child. Every time he had a birthday, he never wanted anyone else to get a piece of the cake, he wants everything to himself, whatever the subject might be. He clearly suffers from both gluttony as well as greed.”</p>
<p>“Maybe he is the one in need of a private physician then, those sound like serious problems” John said and this earned him a an amused glittering in the other man’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Will you be putting that advice in your report, doctor?”</p>
<p>John sighed and decided that it would be for the best if he put this particular detail straight as it clearly seemed to cause Sherlock some concern that his brother was privy to everything being said between them. Because that would not be case as far as John was concerned.</p>
<p>“Look, Sherlock. Whatever he might have said earlier, I’m not some sort of informant who works for him. I will give him the facts that has to do with your health, nothing more. So you may speak openly to me about everything. And as far as your brother’s problems with two of the seven deadly sins, he can discuss those issues with his own doctor.”</p>
<p>A glint of something that almost looked like surprise crossed Sherlock’s features, as if he had not expected John’s loyalty. But it was quickly gone again and then he was back to looking nonchalant and rose hastily from the chair.</p>
<p>“So, if we’re done here then, doctor....?” he concluded.</p>
<p>John felt a bit reluctant for this to be over already but as he had nothing more to examine right now he might as well say good bye and take a look the medical journal Mycroft had promised to hand him once this initial meeting was over. Maybe a few of his question would have some answers after reading it.</p>
<p>“I’ll be seeing you in three days then, if nothing unexpected happens or if you decide to try a new break-in before that and end up needing my medical expertise.”</p>
<p>Feeling strangely formal for a second, as if they had not spent the past half an hour verbally sparring with each other, he extended his hand towards Sherlock as a parting gesture.</p>
<p>“Until next time, Sherlock.”</p>
<p>Sherlock’s cool hand felt soft in his grip and for a brief second their eyes met before the moment passed and their hands fell apart again.</p>
<p>Then he turned his back and left, Sherlock standing where he was in the middle of his chaotic room, abandoned to his own devices once more and John couldn’t help but feel for him, stuck in this house like some locked-up pet, seemingly under his brother’s control, waiting to be married off to a man John knew nothing about but who, if Mycroft was to be believed, would continue to keep his future husband under as much scrutiny as Mycroft did right now. </p>
<p>John felt the need to probe deeper into this issue later on, he still had a bunch of questions swirling inside his head that he was dying to get to bottom of. But for now, the initial meeting had come to and end and he felt satisfied about how effortlessly it had all gone down. He had frankly feared a lot more hassle considering Mycroft’s description of his brother.</p>
<p>As he walked through the house towards the exit he assumed Mycroft was somewhere in one of the many rooms he passed by, but he didn’t come out to talk to him and John did not go searching for him either. </p>
<p>Instead he went straight for the front door and walked out to the waiting car that was going to take him back home.</p>
<p>On the leather seat next to him as he climbed inside Sherlock’s medical records was already waiting for him and as the car drove off he opened it up and began to read.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Theorizing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The medical journal had been informative regarding certain issues but John was still left with the feeling that it was heavily edited and even if it did include a history of cocaine abuse and some other reckless experimentation with other drugs during the later part of the teenage years, it never went into specific detail or told the reason behind the usage. </p>
<p>Neither did John receive any information about why Mycroft seemed so protective of his brother or why a medical exam was needed so frequently. The young man seemed healthy enough, if a bit too thin and with deplorable eating and sleeping habits, but that was hardly cause for serious concern.<br/>. <br/>One detail that did stand out though was that tests for sexually transmitted diseases were performed every couple of weeks and considering that Sherlock supposedly was engaged to be married it felt very unlikely that he would be carrying any STD’s with only one regular partner. </p>
<p>The couple had been engaged for almost a full year, so any former partners were probably out of the picture by now. The medical journey didn’t mention if there had been any former partners before the engagement or why the tests were being performed in the first place and John could honestly not think of a single reason why they were ordered to be executed at all. </p>
<p>Unless, and this was a very creepy theory indeed, the fiancé for some reason did not trust his future husband and needed constant proof of Sherlock’s fidelity. </p>
<p>Or, and it was difficult to say if this theory was even worse, the fiancé was a compulsive cheater and it was Mycroft who ordered the tests to be made. It was fully plausible that the older Holmes brother would be able to carry out such an order considering what John had managed to piece together regarding Mycroft’s personality. </p>
<p>A test did not protect anyone though, it was only a way of finding out if a person was infected or not, so the first theory was perhaps a bit more likely. If Mycroft had wanted to prevent Sherlock from catching a sexually transmitted disease, he was smart enough to know that other precautions needed to be made to avoid that from happening. </p>
<p>So it seemed more likely that the tests were a way for the fiancé to feel certain of Sherlock’s faithfulness. And this theory also went very well with the image John had began to form of the fiancé he had yet to meet but already strongly disliked for numerous reasons, some of them out of pure jealousy but others because he honestly did not like what Mycroft had alluded about the man last night. </p>
<p>He told himself that it most likely was on account of Sherlock being engaged, he had no true reason to hate the other man, he didn’t even know his name for God’s sake, and yet he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable when he recalled what Mycroft had told him about the fiancé continuing to care for Sherlock’s welfare in a rather controlling fashion well beyond any normal concern from a spouse.</p>
<p>John thought about Sherlock’s living arrangement as they were right now, the sealed windows, the high gates, the house that felt more like a confinement than an actual home. When you put the added health exams and the STD tests into the equation it felt more or less like a gilded cage, but perhaps that was Mycroft’s idea of perfectly controlled protection. </p>
<p>It felt extremely domineering but on the other hand, so did the idea that a family member and later a spouse was the one in charge of a person’s medical care when there was absolutely no need for it.</p>
<p>John wondered if he should address this issue later on, when he had gotten to know his patient and his employer a little better. He was only doing this for a short time and technically it would be a bad idea to get too involved and perhaps risk getting on the wrong foot with Mycroft, but on the other hand, John was not a person who idly could stand by and watch something that didn’t feel right continue to happen. </p>
<p>If that indeed was the case here.</p>
<p>When he had finished reading the medical journal he wrote down a small summarization of his examination and then sent it by delivery to the address he had been given. There was a phone number as well but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for another conversation with Mycroft after today’s events, a few written words had to suffice for now. He kept it all to a minimum and did not include any verbal exchanges that had been made between them. </p>
<p>He wondered if Mycroft would point that out later, but for now he wasn’t willing to risk Sherlock’s trust by being too meticulous in his reports.</p>
<p>Then he arranged for his medical bag to be retrieved as quickly as possible. </p>
<p>Normally things like that didn’t run smoothly, this was a common self-storage and if people wanted to retrieve anything from there they were supposed to do it themselves, but along with the contact information Mycroft had given him last night, there had also been the name and number to a person assigned to help him procure everything he might need while being in charge of Sherlock’s health and a quick call to this individual assured him that his medical bag would arrive the following evening at the latest. </p>
<p>John wondered how living a life where everything could be arranged with the snap of a finger would be like and how much it could shape a person if almost everything was so easily obtainable. But then he thought of Sherlock who certainly didn’t seem like a particularly happy person despite his seemingly privileged existence, if anything he seemed a bit lost, and John certainly didn’t envy him when he recalled that large soulless house and Mycroft’s cold glint in his eyes when addressing his brother.</p>
<p>Whatever John’s relationship with Harry might have been through the years, it was at least a normal relationship between siblings, temporarily hidden beneath layers of resentment and her drinking habits combined with his many years abroad and several miles of distance that meant that they weren’t particularly close anymore.  But still, their slightly barbed tone when taking the time to communicate with each other was nothing compared to how the two Holmes brothers opted to conduct their decidedly twisted family affair and John wondered how much of Mycroft’s overbearing shadow was to blame for Sherlock’s rebellious behaviour and perhaps even his drug abuse.</p>
<p>Well, if John was lucky and talented enough to know how to pry some information out of his patient, he might find out soon enough. </p>
<p>When finished with the report to Mycroft, he sat down on his bed for a little while. </p>
<p>He was not obligated to go back to work for the rest of the day so at first he lounged about a bit, read a little, watched some telly and enjoyed the freedom of a day off. But as everyone else were away at work and the barrack was empty, he soon grew bored and after a lonely lunch with a soggy microwaved Tikka Masala, he decided to join the others for the afternoon shift.</p>
<p>He changed into his work clothes and then headed over to the facility. </p>
<p>By the gates he noticed a shiny silver-metallic car pass by, and for a second he wondered if it was Mycroft who had sent a vehicle to retrieve him, dissatisfied with his meagre report.</p>
<p>But as the car headed towards the high-security research laboratories his shoulders slumped and he continued towards his own area of the building instead. </p>
<p>Not that he was looking forward to another meeting with Mycroft anytime soon, but if given an opportunity to see Sherlock before the scheduled appointment he would certainly not turn it down.</p>
<p>His co-workers were happy to see him when he arrived but surprisingly no one asked him where he had been, a few of them greeted him with welcoming shouts and others nodded in his direction as he passed by, but beyond that, things remained unusually normal. </p>
<p>After a few hours doing what he always did during the afternoon, he had almost forgot how his morning had gone by and what he had been through. </p>
<p>The image of Sherlock, walking towards him across the garden in his white shirt and those soft dark curls framing his unique features, lingered in his thoughts as his muscles ached from exhaustion and he wiped away sweat from his forehead, but beyond that small diversion he mainly focused on his task and put in as much effort as he always did while working. It was strange to consider that he had been doing something completely different not that many hours ago.</p>
<p>Shortly before the end of the shift he walked out for some refreshment along with a few of the others and as they approached the water fountain outside there was a small gathering of people surrounding the same shiny silver car he had seen arrive earlier.</p>
<p>He could only see the backs of people surrounding the vehicle and most of them were co-workers while a few of them wore those white lab coats that were significant for staff members working in the reasearch facility. </p>
<p>He caught sight of Mike Stamford standing a little to the side, outside the circle of people closest to the car, and he made his way over to say hello as they seldom had the opportunity to meet like this.</p>
<p>Stamford looked happy to see John and greeted him with a cheery smile as he approached.</p>
<p>John then nodded in the direction of the crowd.</p>
<p>“What’s going on here?”</p>
<p>“We had a visitor this afternoon who wanted to check out the laboratories. People are just curious whenever someone from the outside decides to pop by, there is nothing exciting about it beyond that.”</p>
<p>“I thought it was forbidden for civilians to be given tours of the lab? Red-tape projects and so on, very hush hush, as far as I recall you telling me before I ended up working here.”</p>
<p>“Well, this was an exception.”</p>
<p>John turned his head to try and get a look at who this visitor might be but was unable to see anything on account of the crowd.</p>
<p>“Was it someone very important? The Prime minister perhaps?” he joked and Stamford gave him a wry smile in return.</p>
<p>“Hardly. I’m not sure the Prime minister would want to pay us a visit, he doesn’t seem the type to get involved in anything his brain can’t wrap itself around. Very few would be able to grasp what exactly it is that we do in here.”</p>
<p>John was tempted to tell him that he might actually have the opportunity to work there himself soon enough but then he decided against it. Better to see where this ended before he went ahead of himself and told things that might not actually happen.</p>
<p>“So who’s the big wig then?” he asked instead.</p>
<p>“Mr Holmes’s future brother in law.”</p>
<p>John whipped his had to stare at Mike. Then he quickly turned his head back and stretched his neck to get a better look. </p>
<p>If this was Sherlock’s husband to be, he needed to see what this man actually looked like.</p>
<p>But the crowd was not very forthcoming, and the only option was to forcefully push his way through it if he wanted to get a closer look.</p>
<p>So, foregoing his usually good manners, he tried elbowing his way forward and he received more than a few irritated glares from people in the crowd that wondered what his rudeness was all about.</p>
<p>But just as he managed to almost reach the car, hoping to see a glimpse of the man that was supposed to marry Sherlock in a few months, the car door was slammed shut by a driver in a uniform and as the windows in the backseat were tainted black he didn’t catch so much as a peek of the mysterious fiancé. </p>
<p>Disappointed he had to conclude that he had missed his opportunity.</p>
<p>The crowd was already beginning to scatter, and the car slowly made its way forward when Stamford reached John and put a hand on his shoulder, curiosity in his his eyes.</p>
<p>“What was that about? You reacted like a teenager trying to steal a look at the latest idol. “</p>
<p>“Nothing important,” John murmured, slightly disappointed that he had failed to get a closer look, but realising that he would probably meet with the man soon enough anyway, or at least see a photo of him while visiting Sherlock.</p>
<p>But as he tried to recall seeing such a photo earlier this morning, nothing came forward. </p>
<p>He was fairly certain that there hadn’t been one on display, even if the room had been very cluttered and a photo could easily have been hiding amongst all the other items fighting for space in that room.</p>
<p>Maybe Sherlock opted to have a photo in his bedroom instead, or in his wallet or on his phone or any other place where people had things that reminded them of people they loved and cherished. </p>
<p>As that sentence popped into his head he realised that he found it a bit strange that Sherlock hadn’t mentioned his fiancé even once during their first meeting. If someone was important enough in your life that you had decided to marry them, wouldn't you at least say something about it?  </p>
<p>It was also equally strange that Mycroft had omitted to include any information about the man in the file John had been given. </p>
<p>On the other hand, that file had been mostly about Sherlock and his medical history, so maybe it wasn’t as surprising after all. </p>
<p>But considering that Mycroft had mentioned the fiancé on several occasions it seemed like a subject that would have been addressed at least once by Sherlock. </p>
<p>Or maybe his own curiosity was getting the better of him and he only wanted to be privy to some information because it intrigued him to know what kind of man Sherlock would go for. He sincerely hoped he wasn't that immature though.</p>
<p><i>However much you wish it, it’s not you he has chosen for himself</i>, he reprimanded his own inner self and then clapped Stamford lightly on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“It was nothing. I’ve heard a little bit about this man and I just wanted to ease my curiosity by seeing what he looked like.”</p>
<p>Stamford frowned at that.</p>
<p>“Who told you about him?”</p>
<p>John shrugged.</p>
<p>“I don’t recall, someone just mentioned him, I guess.”</p>
<p>It was clear that Stamford did not believe him but at least he didn’t challenge John with his doubts. Instead he only nodded and then began to turn, seeing as his colleagues had headed off in the direction of the lab.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you around, John. Maybe a night at the pub soon? Catch up on how things are going for you? The wife’s off to her parents shortly, so I have no one demanding my presence at the dinner table.”</p>
<p>He patted his protruding stomach sheepishly. While John had made the effort to remain more or less fit over the years, Mike Stamford had grown decidedly fat.</p>
<p>“She’s being trying to force me on this new diet lately, all plant-based food. I know I should probably drop a couple of pounds, but I bloody hate it. I could kill for a couple of beers and a piece of that delicious pork pie they serve at the pub.”</p>
<p>John nodded.</p>
<p>“Sure, just come tell me when you’re available. You know where to find me.”</p>
<p>“Will do. Take care, John!”</p>
<p>And with that he turned his back and hurried after the others while John returned to his own group, drank the water he had intended to have and then returned to finish off what he had started before it was time to quit work for the day.</p>
<p>As the evening cam, he went to the lake for a swim to clear his head.</p>
<p> It was nice to feel the cool water against his skin, divesting him from sweat as well as grime, peeling his brooding thoughts away as well with every stroke he took. </p>
<p>He was alone tonight as a tournament of dart was apparently being enjoyed down the pub and others had gone off to town to entertain themselves as the weather was nice and the latest salary had been distributed. Nothing like a good night on the town when you had money to spend and the evening held endless promises of a good time to be had.</p>
<p>John laid himself down in the grass next to the lake, his skin developing goosebumps in the cool air as he stared up into the dusky evening sky. A few stars were already visible and he felt content where he was, looking at them twinkling in the distance.</p>
<p>He thought about Sherlock again and involuntarily he felt himself stiffen inside his half-dry swimming trunks. </p>
<p>This time he allowed it though. </p>
<p>He was alone and he was slightly exhausted from the lack of sleep last night, as well as the tension from earlier today. There was no harm in indulging in some innocent fantasies, as long as he knew what boundaries to uphold during the times he actually met with Sherlock and remembered that he was hired to do a job, nothing else.</p>
<p>As he languidly stroked himself to the memory of Sherlock’s tight trousers clinging to his pert behind as he had walked up the stairs, John hoped that he would be able to keep that promise and avoid getting himself involved too much. </p>
<p>It was just a couple of months after all. How much damage could he possibly get himself into?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A visit after midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hallway leading up to the four-poster bed was empty, the view of the bed’s sole occupant fully visible. He could sense the shadowy figure approaching rather than actually see it for himself and he waited for the expected view looming by the end of the bed, staring at him in the darkness.</p>
<p> It was never fully dark in here though, small dimmers created a soft light above the bed so he knew he was fully visible. And he knew what he was expected to see as well.</p>
<p>Initially there had been a duvet for him to cover himself with but it had later been removed and the satin sheets were unable to shield him from anything, least of all prying eyes. </p>
<p>In his opinion, that was actually the worst part about this, the inability to hide. Physical intrusions were often more or less endurable, his body was nothing but transport after all, but to know that he was being watched without the power to do anything about it was what truly galled him. </p>
<p>His naked skin prickled from a draft coming down the hall and he managed to supress a shiver.</p>
<p> This was always the worst part. </p>
<p>The wait. </p>
<p>He never knew how long he was expected to lie there on display, it could be hours or it could minutes, the reality of time was lost as he lied there. All he knew was that he was not permitted to fall asleep and he was not permitted to walk away.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again he wasn’t alone in the room anymore. A hand reached out, stroking his curls and then caressed his cheek before it ended up with its fingers firmly around his throat. </p>
<p>For a second it lingered there, pressing against the windpipe and he could feel himself trying to inhale a lungful of air without seemingly moving a muscle. It was never appreciated to be seen struggling.</p>
<p>Then the hand moved upwards once again, this time stopping by his mouth, fingers prying his lips apart before the middle finger was inserted into his mouth.</p>
<p>“Suck it,” came the familiar voice from the shadows around him, and without turning to look at the person making this demand, he did as he was told and enclosed hip lips around the finger and swirled his tongue over the tip before he started sucking. </p>
<p>Another hand reached out to take a hold of his hair and as his teeth accidentally scraped the finger he was sucking, a forceful yank made him slow down his pace. He supressed whatever instinct he had of burying his teeth deep into the flesh and bone while the grip around his curls relaxed once more.</p>
<p>“Good boy” the shadow whispered, and he closed his eyes while he continued to swallow the finger even deeper. He managed to swallow it whole without effort and he could feel the nail scratch against his gag reflex as if to force him to react.</p>
<p>He sighed internally.</p>
<p>So it was going to be one of those nights then.....</p>
<p>He closed his eyes while bracing himself and then allowed his mouth to widen as a second finger was inserted between his glistening lips.</p>
<p>At least the wait was over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Dearest brother in law</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mycroft noticed the door to the library silently fall open and expected to see his brother appear in the doorway. It was only Sherlock other than himself who were ever still awake at this late hour, and even Mycroft was usually in bed by now, but certain work-related events had kept him glued to the computer screen far longer than he had anticipated.</p><p>But as he raised his gaze to his nightly visitor he realised that it wasn’t Sherlock who was standing by the door.</p><p>He should have realised this as Sherlock seldom willingly sought him out, and after their rather agitated blow-up earlier today after Dr Watson had left, he had expected his brother to sulk in his room for at least a couple of days. </p><p>It had been a necessary argument though, unlike a lot of the others they got themselves involved with. Sherlock needed to realise some fundamental rules and the consequences of breaking them and even if Mycroft realised that it had not been an appreciated lesson he knew it had to be done. </p><p>So Sherlock could sulk if he wanted to, it wouldn’t change anything in the end.</p><p>But Sherlock was an unpredictable creature and occasionally it did happen that he went searching for Mycroft when he wanted something or if he was up to his usual trickery and manipulations. </p><p>It was terribly demanding to have such a sibling and he wondered what his life could have been like if he had not constantly been disturbed by Sherlock’s reckless antics. On the other hand, he was never bored when he had his brother around and in a world where people in general where of no importance to him it was nice to feel that he could connect with at least one individual out there, even if it was usually in a very antagonistic way. And in the end he did actually love and care for his brother, albeit in his own very peculiar way.</p><p>As the visitor turned out to not be Sherlock Mycroft’s features rearranged themselves accordingly and turned politely neutral while he secretly wished he hadn't removed his jacket earlier. He felt strangely vulnerable in only his shirt and waistcoat on, a few of the buttons undone and his forehead shiny in the light of the desk lamp. This was not the image he wanted to portray in front of this person.</p><p>The figure by the door stepped out from the shadows where he had been lurking, silently closing the door behind his back before he made his way over to the old Chesterfield armchair by the fireplace, one of the few items in the house that had been hand-picked by Mycroft himself. </p><p> “Good evening, Mycroft. Working as hard as ever, I see.”</p><p>He seated himself comfortably into the armchair and crossed one leg over the other as he contemplated the room’s other occupant seated behind the desk.</p><p>“Always such a busy little bee...” he concluded in a soft voice.</p><p>Mycroft cringed at the phrasing. He disliked the way he was spoken to by this man sometimes. They were so fundamentally different and yet still so alike that it was difficult to know how to react to the way he was addressed occasionally. It was not enough to make a complaint about it but it unsettled him for some reason and perhaps that was the part that irked him the most, that it actually bothered him. His golden rule was to never care but this man was determent to make him break that rule every time. </p><p>Naturally he did his best not to let any of these emotions show on his features and instead he cleared his throat and did his best to sound distantly polite as he asked the obvious question.</p><p>“What brings you to my rooms at this hour?”</p><p> “The reason that always brings me to your rooms, Mycroft. At all hours.”</p><p>Mycroft gave him a quick inspection but skipped the most telling signs of recent activities as he had no desire to know too much.</p><p>“Is he asleep?” he said instead and leaned back in his chair.</p><p>“Hardly. But he is confined to bed. He won’t be joining us if that’s what worrying you.”</p><p>Mycroft felt something unpleasant unfurl inside of him and couldn’t help the tetchy tone sneaking its way into his reply.</p><p>“I wasn’t worried. Sherlock seldom seeks my company by choice anyway. We crash into each other more likely, battle it out and then go away to lick our wounds in separate corners of the house.”</p><p>“How very dramatically put.”</p><p>“I’m hardly the dramatic one in the family, and compared to your silver tongue I have nothing to offer in that department. I saw the card you sent.”</p><p>Damn it, he had been reduced to making small digs. He really needed to calm himself down, so in an effort to placate, he added:</p><p>“Your roses were much appreciated though.”</p><p>“Were they?”</p><p>Mycroft frowned.</p><p>“Why, yes, of course.”</p><p>“By you or by him?”</p><p>A silence settled for a second as they looked at each other. Mycroft had difficulty appreciating the quagmire created between them whenever they were alone, why were people always so insistent on being difficult?</p><p>Instead of answering the question, he decided to change tactics.</p><p>“I must confess that I was surprised to see them. How did you find out that my brother had been admitted to hospital?”</p><p>A wide smile spread across the other man's features, making him look predatory.</p><p>“What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t care for my fiancé's well-fare?”</p><p>“A poor one assumingly, but that doesn’t really answer my question of how you knew something had happened to him.”</p><p>“No, it doesn’t,” the other one agreed but did not elaborate any further.</p><p>There was glimmer of challenge in his eyes and Mycroft had to force himself to not react with a curt reply. There was too much at stake for him to begin causing disturbance at the eleventh hour.</p><p>Instead he nodded in acknowledgement and closed the lid on his laptop before he rose from the chair.</p><p>“I have a rather arduous day to look forward to tomorrow and as much as your presence here is always welcome, I’m afraid that I must bid you good night.”</p><p>But the man in the armchair made no effort to rise.</p><p>“I’m told you hired a new doctor for Sherlock. Yet another one.”</p><p>“Well, they never stick around for long unfortunately. I have some hopes about this new one though, he showed signs of some very quick thinking at a very crucial moment. He was the one who called the ambulance and administered the adrenalin shot before Sherlock was taken to hospital. In all likelihood he saved my brother’s life.”</p><p>“I see. Then I should perhaps make his acquaintance more properly and thank him in person."</p><p>Mycroft doubted that would be appreciated but refrained from pointing it out. </p><p>"Is he going by the same arrangements as the other ones?”</p><p>Mycroft nodded.</p><p>“Yes. His next visit will be on Thursday.”</p><p>“Has he performed a proper examination yet?”</p><p>“Not a thorough one, no. I believe he was lacking the appropriate equipment.”</p><p>“And has he been informed of the full arrangement?”</p><p>“He was given Sherlock’s medical records, I believe it should suffice.”</p><p>Another silence settled and for a second Mycroft wondered if the departure to his bedroom would be delayed even further than it already had been. </p><p>But then the other man rose, as if having made his mind up.</p><p>“I trust you to arrange for any further transgressions to be properly dealt with in the future, Mycroft. Have you figured out how he managed to get inside the facility yet?”</p><p>“I know enough to ensure that he won’t be able to do it again. I had a proper talk with him about it this morning and even if my brother would never admit to taking advice from anyone, I think he has learned his lesson.”</p><p>“Let’s hope so. I wouldn’t want my beloved to be harmed in any way before our wedding day. He is far too dear to me.”</p><p>Mycroft swallowed the impulse to pull a face when hearing those words. Too sugary, too sweet, too utterly sentimental for his liking. </p><p>He didn’t doubt they were true though.</p><p>“I assure you that Dr Watson and I will do our very best to prevent anything from happening to him. You don’t need to worry yourself about it, he will be joining you in front of that church altar when these four months have passed, healthy and unharmed.”</p><p>“And what about willing?”</p><p>Instead of answering Mycroft walked over to the door and opened it for the both of them.</p><p>He wasn’t foolish enough to walk down that slippery slope. The subject of consent was a tired one, he was not in the right state of mind to have that conversation.</p><p>“I’m afraid the staff has gone to bed but I trust you know the way out of course.”</p><p>“I do. Good night, Mycroft. You’ll be hearing from me shortly.”</p><p>As he passed him on the way out the door Mycroft could feel a familiar scent hitting his nostrils and involuntarily they flared before he was able to tamper the impulse down. </p><p>Instead of replying he simply nodded his head and watched the other man disappear into the shadows of the corridor until he was completely out of sight. </p><p>Mycroft remained standing by the door staring into the darkness for a long time afterwards, doing his very best to control the slight tremble that made the hand around the door handle shake just a little bit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The twink in the window</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When John arrived at the large house a few days later he had his medical bag with him, a ton of questions and Sherlock’s medical journal. </p>
<p>Sherlock was lounging in one of the large windows on what unofficially was his floor, overlooking the garden, dressed in nothing but an emerald green dressing gown loosely tied around his slender waist, his bare legs folded to fit within the confined space and his dark curls ruffled. He looked the very image of some timeless twink who had just gotten out of bed and languidly held a cigarette dangling between his long slim fingers, not caring about the ash falling on the carpet below. <br/>It was simultaneously a tantalizing sight as well as provoking, John could just imagine the anger in Mycroft’s eyes if he had been aware of this blatant display of impropriety.</p>
<p> John himself felt decidedly captivated even if the cigarette annoyed him a bit.  His patient looked positively shaggable with the sun casting streaks of light in his hair and making the pale skin remarkably translucent. Like a statue come to life. </p>
<p>A strong urge to rip that cigarette out of Sherlock’s hand as well as disrobing him from that silky dressing gown hit John forcefully and he had to actually control himself so his features didn’t give him away. </p>
<p>Instead he cleared his throat and managed to tear his eyes away from the part where the robe was threatening to fall open and reveal even more than it already did.</p>
<p>Without turning his head away from the window Sherlock inhaled deeply and then tilted his head back as he slowly exhaled, his long neck fully visible and John’s eyes were immediately drawn back again, this time zeroing in on that delicate neck and how he would have loved to reach out and trail a hand along the expanse of it. </p>
<p>There was that strange combination of delicacy and frailness combined with hauteur and magnificence that was absolutely irresistible. John had always had a thing for posh boys as well as tall, dark and handsome ones and this man was certainly ticking in all of his preferences. </p>
<p>It almost felt like Sherlock was aware of this fact and put himself on display and John wasn’t above admitting that temptation surged through him at the sight, despite all his futile promises and attempts to keep things professional.</p>
<p>With his face still turned towards the window, facing away from John, Sherlock asked in a low suggestive voice:</p>
<p>“Enjoying the view?”</p>
<p>“....What?”</p>
<p>“I asked if you were enjoying the view?”</p>
<p>John could feel his cheeks heat but kept his look firmly on the other man despite this, without backing away. He had no wish to reveal how unsettled he felt.</p>
<p>But before he had managed to come up with a proper reply Sherlock raised his cigarette and waived it airily in the direction of the window.</p>
<p>“The garden. It’s the best part of the estate, and this window is the perfect lookout spot.”</p>
<p>Then he finally turned his head to look at John, a small smile playing on his lips. </p>
<p>“Or where your eyes occupied with looking at something else?” he said and winked.</p>
<p>John could feel his jaw clench as he visibly swallowed before replying.</p>
<p>“It is indeed a nice garden. But yes, I’m afraid my attention was....a bit distracted.”</p>
<p>And as if choosing this precis moment by sensing the suggestive tone between them Sherlock's dressing gown conveniently slipped down one of the shoulders to expose a firm naked arm beneath and Sherlock’s smile widened.</p>
<p>“Is that so?” he said and nonchalantly stumped out the cigarette against the windowpane.</p>
<p>For a brief moment a glimpse of something almost predatory flashed in his eyes and John felt confusion suddenly clearing his more lust-ridden thoughts. </p>
<p>Because was this actually happening? </p>
<p>However much he had fantasised about it, it did not fit with the narrative, this was a man about to get to married within only a few months and he was also a man who John had talked to exactly once and on that occasion there had certainly not been any spark of interest in those changeable eyes, however much John might have hoped for it.</p>
<p>But instead of asking anything straight out that might cause himself any embarrassment he changed topics and raised the hand that was holding the medical bag.</p>
<p>“I’m better equipped today.”</p>
<p>“So I see.”</p>
<p>“If you wouldn’t mind I have some questions as well that I would like to ask, after the examination.”</p>
<p>Sherlock nodded in acknowledgement.</p>
<p>“That’s fine.”</p>
<p>John locked around for a way a to steer this situation into more safe topics. </p>
<p>“Where do you suggest we do this? The examination I mean.”</p>
<p>But if he had hoped that a change of focus might stave off whatever it was Sherlock had in mind at the moment, he was sorely mistaken. In a voice that practically purred with sexual inuendo in such a manner that it sent a tingling jolt straight to John’s groin at the sound of it, Sherlock declared:</p>
<p>“Oh, I know just the place.”</p>
<p>Then he nimbly jumped down from the window, the dressing gown billowing around his ankles and the knot that was holding the garment together looked like it was about to slip loose. </p>
<p>John couldn’t help but stare despite himself, the green fabric against that pale naked skin and the ebony curls made him look like some exotic creature asking to be worshipped, but Sherlock apparently had some sense of privacy  after all as his fingers deftly tightened the knot and then strode away the corridor towards the stairs, the dressing gown still flapping around his retreating figure, the hint of his body visible through the thin fabric. He was clearly not wearing any pants.</p>
<p><i>Oh that ass again</i>, John though headily, getting even more fodder for his fantasies now apparently.....<i> it will be the death of me.....</i></p>
<p>As they passed the room where Sherlock had taken him the previous time and instead headed down the stairs, John wondered where they were going exactly. </p>
<p>Another set of stairs and suddenly they were on the same floor where John had been led by Mycroft’s assistant on his first night in the house. </p>
<p>Reminded of that evening and the veritable Bond villain lair in the basement he hoped Sherlock hadn’t decided to invite his brother to join them during the examination. It would not be surprising though, Mycroft seemed liked the type of man who would want to oversee things himself. Or perhaps he had a camera installed somewhere and didn’t need to be in the same room personally to survey anything.</p>
<p>“Is your brother at home?” he asked as he tried to keep up with Sherlock’s flowing figure.</p>
<p>“No, don’t worry. He’s in town.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t worried....” John began but was interrupted by an amused little laugh.</p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure you’re not missing his presence either.”</p>
<p>“Well, no.....”</p>
<p>Suddenly they came to a halt in front of one of the endless white-painted doors on the bottom floor corridor and from a pocket in his dressing gown Sherlock produced a key and unlocked it.</p>
<p>The door was silently pushed open and he swept inside while John followed more hesitantly, as a rising suspicion had begun to form inside of him and was confirmed as he stepped further into the room.</p>
<p>Because this was a bedroom.</p>
<p>The décor was in a similar style as the rest of the house, the one exception being Sherlock’s chaotic room upstairs, and it consisted of a large but simple single bed in the middle of the room with a beige coverlet on top of it, a wooden closet and a chest of drawers next to the window. Not one single personal item to be seen, not even a piece of clothing. </p>
<p>The bed was pristinely made but Sherlock jumped up on it without hesitation and allowed his feet to dangle from the edge as he expectantly turned his eyes to look at John.</p>
<p>“You want to do the examination in <i>here</i>?” John asked incredulously, because a bloody bedroom with a half-naked Sherlock Holmes on top of a bed? Sherlock Holmes who was about to get married by the way and had the creepiest brother imaginable, and why did it feel like John’s mouth had suddenly gone very dry at the prospect of this? </p>
<p>He tried clearing his throat again to get rid of the stifling sensation and was about to raise the medical bag to open it when Sherlock with a slight shrug made the dressing gown fall off his shoulders completely and then removed his arms from the remaining fabric so he was sitting with his upper body fully naked, a flimsy heap of clothing just covering his privates now from around the waist and down.</p>
<p>“Erm....well,” John began as he couldn’t help but stare at the unblemished smooth skin that stretched over a firm chest and an enviously flat stomach. </p>
<p>Sherlock was surprisingly wiry despite his slenderness, his pectorals as well as his arms displayed some hint of muscle and the abdominal area was very lean and slender. He was probably stronger than how he appeared with his clothes on. Or perhaps John had focused too much on the bottom part of the body earlier to really notice the rest.</p>
<p><i>Snap out of it!</i> He scolded himself and with difficulty he diverted his eyes to turn his attention on the medical bag once again.</p>
<p>“I thought you wanted to listen to my heart and lungs as you actually brought a stethoscope this time? I believe it’s better done without any clothes on” he could hear Sherlock say from the bed, and now he sounded all innocent and oblivious all of a sudden. </p>
<p>Or was John inner lust ridden demons playing tricks on him, making him read signs into the situation that were not actually there? </p>
<p>Well this was certainly not going off to a proper start, he thought wryly, <i>get your act together and behave professionally! You’re here to do a job, not ogle at your patient like some horn dog! Leave those ideas for when you’re back at the barrack and alone with your helpful hand.</i></p>
<p>So he cleared his throat for the third time and focused on the contents of the bag.</p>
<p>“Yes, very good. Using a bedroom is a smart idea, a bit more privacy for you as we don’t have an actual doctor’s office here. And removing your dressing gown....also very helpful.”</p>
<p>He thought he sounded like a babbling idiot but bit down the urge to explain himself any further. This was after all nothing he hadn’t done a million times before. </p>
<p>Some naked skin on a hot bloke was not going to divert him from his duties. He had been around good-looking muscly men in the army enough times to not allow himself to be easily distracted. </p>
<p>Granted, this was an exceptionally good-looking man and something about him made John’s knees go all week while he simultaneously wanted to grab that firm ass and just take him right there on the spot, on that pristine-looking bed. </p>
<p>He also had enough self-perseverance to know that wasn’t going to happen.</p>
<p>But if John was determined to keep things professional, Sherlock clearly had other ideas.</p>
<p>When the stethoscope had been produced from the medical bag and John pressed it gently over the heart area, Sherlock stared straight into his eyes, distracting him so much that he actually fumbled around a bit before he heard any heart beats. </p>
<p>Without paying any closer attention to what he was hearing as he was so easily distracted by the closeness to the other man’s body, he concluded that it had to be a well-functioning organ and decided to move on to the lungs instead, mentally scolding himself for being so preoccupied by other, more pleasurable ideas.</p>
<p>“Turn around,” he ordered and stepped back to give Sherlock some space to do so. </p>
<p>Soundlessly the dressing gown fell to the floor as Sherlock rose and presented his back, as well as his delectable backside and John cursed internally. </p>
<p>What kind of game was Sherlock playing? Was he being a tease on purpose or was there something else going on here? </p>
<p>But instead of showing how affected he got by all of this, he kept his tone professional and placed the cold stethoscope between the jutting shoulder blades.</p>
<p>“Breathe for me, please,” he said and moved the stethoscope around to get a proper sound.</p>
<p>Sherlock twisted his head to look at John over his shoulder as he complied with his order, but John stubbornly stared straight ahead instead, not returning his stare.</p>
<p>“Thank you. You can turn around now and put the dressing gown back on,” he said when he had finished.</p>
<p>But instead of following orders, Sherlock simply turned to face John without making a move to retrieve the discarded garment from the floor. </p>
<p>John did his outmost not to let his eyes wonder but that meant that he instead had to meet the other man’s inquisitive stare and as their gazes locked he didn’t know what option was worse, staring into those mesmerising eyes that seemed to penetrate him with profound intensity, or letting his gaze fall down to the more private area of Sherlock’s naked anatomy that were just inches from him and offered an overwhelming temptation to reach out and touch.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth to say something,<i> anything</i>, to break the charged tension between them, frantically ransacking his brain for some suitable words to douse the feeling of arousal beginning to form within him when Sherlock suddenly leaned in and closed the final distance between them by tilting his head and pressing his soft warm lips gently against John’s. </p>
<p>For a second John froze in shock but then he melted into the kiss with ardent fervour as his hands automatically reached out to grab Sherlock’s neck.</p>
<p>When they finally broke apart from the kiss, John panted for air and Sherlock’s lips looked swollen and debauched. </p>
<p>John licked his own lips to savour the lingering taste of the other man's mouth and felt his heart beating profoundly in his chest. My God how he wanted this to continue and by the looks of it, so did Sherlock. His pupils were huge as saucers.</p>
<p>But the rational part of John’s brain that still insisted on functioning sensibly croaked with some cautionary advice that he was in no mood to hear but still was unable to completely ignore.</p>
<p>“What are we actually doing....” he began but Sherlock slowly shook his head and put a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture.</p>
<p>“Shhh...no thinking....” he whispered and snaked his arm around John to push them closer together, the firmness of an erect cock pressing insistently against John while his own was decidedly displeased about finding itself in the confined space of his underwear. </p>
<p>“If we continue, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop,” John panted as Sherlock began tearing at his jumper to get him out of it while his own hands were moving across the endless planes of naked skin across the back and down to the firm bottom where he grabbed a handful, happy to finally be able to touch what had so far only been a dirty fantasy.</p>
<p>“...no need to stop....” Sherlock purred and with that approval John tore away the beige coverlet and pushed the younger man with some force down on the bed before he climbed up on top of him while fumbling with the zipper of his trousers.</p>
<p>And at the sight splayed out in front of him on the silky white sheets, the last vestiges of his resolve flew out the window along with any lingering doubt he had about the appropriateness of these actions and as he reached down to allow his hands to wander the gorgeous naked body trapped between his thighs he could think of nothing else but to have this man right here and fuck them both into oblivion. </p>
<p>To hell with the unsuitability of their patient-doctor relationship, Sherlock’s fiancé and Mycroft bloody Holmes!</p>
<p> John had everything he wanted pressed against his own aroused body and he could care for nothing else.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Forming a new alliance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the hell have we just done?” John laid spent on the bed, his skin still glistening from sweat and stared up at the ceiling. “This might have been the most ill-advised decision I’ve ever made…”</p>
<p>“Hardly. What about that time you decided to join the invasion of Afghanistan?”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but laugh at this as he turned his head to look at Sherlock who had risen from the bed and was standing by the window, his dressing gown back on, fingers drumming restlessly against the glass.</p>
<p>“That was hardly my decision alone, I just went along for the adventure.”</p>
<p>“Just saying, you’ve made worse decisions in your life. This might not even make the top three....”</p>
<p>“Oh, it most certainly does! Having sex with a patient who I only met once before and who is also, very inconveniently getting married within a few months, that’s all kinds of bad.....I didn’t even complete the examination before we ended up in bed. What would your brother say if he knew about this?”</p>
<p>Sherlock snorted incredulously.</p>
<p>“Really? Your main concern is what Mycroft might think?”</p>
<p>“Well, he is my boss,,,,”</p>
<p>“Yes, and, this is actually <i>his</i> bedroom. But don’t worry about it, I’ll tell the maid to change the sheets.”</p>
<p>“What?!” John bellowed and raised himself from his horizontal position to rest on his elbows. “Why the bloody hell did you decide to have sex in your brother’s bedroom?”</p>
<p>“Because I don’t particularly like my own bedroom and you saw the state of my room upstairs. What would you have preferred, a romp in the salon, bent over the sofa?”</p>
<p>John’s mouth clicked shut for a second as he contemplated how a situation that had seemed pretty terrible to begin with could possibly still turn out even worse. Changing the sheets or not, Mycroft would find out what had had happened in here and John would be out on his arse within the blink of an eye.</p>
<p>Did he regret it though?</p>
<p>Possibly not......</p>
<p>Sure, the situation was really bad and some shame was actually eating away at him right now, but at the same time this had been the most marvellous thing to have happened to him in a long time and the very reason for this situation was still managing to send a spark of excitement just by standing there, wrapped in his green dressing gown by the window, restless energy clearly exuding from every pore as if he had not just been involved in the most heated acts of carnal pleasure John had ever participated in. </p>
<p>Sherlock Holmes was unruly like an untamed feline and probably as loony as a bat but by God was he a hot piece of ass! </p>
<p> Agile and bendy he had done things to his body that John had previously only seen on porn sites during lonesome evenings out in the Afghan desert when he had tapped away at his computer to stave off the most urgent feeling of sexual frustration. </p>
<p>Combined with an appearance that drove John half mad just by looking at him, he knew why he had been this easily persuaded to join Sherlock in bed. And he had been happily rewarded when Sherlock not only turned out to be very versatile with his body but also had a talent for using his tongue, so if guilt was eating away at John's resolve it had still been worth it in the end when he recalled the image of himself buried balls deep into Sherlock’s pert arse, pounding away as if there would be no tomorrow while forcefully holding onto a shock of silky curls. </p>
<p>But what a mess this was nonetheless!</p>
<p>“I can’t believe how casual you are about all of this! You just cheated on your fiancé! With your doctor! It’s like a really terrible episode of Corry.”</p>
<p>Sherlock sighed dramatically and rummaged through his pockets until he found what he was looking for and put a cigarette between his lips.</p>
<p>“I have no idea what a Corry is but no doubt is something exceedingly dull and not worthy of my concern.”</p>
<p>“It’s a British tv soap....” John began but impatiently Sherlock waived it away before lighting his cigarette.</p>
<p>“As I said: not worthy of my concern. Something we should be talking about instead is what you’re going to put in your report. Mycroft is expecting something to read when he gets back and I highly doubt shagging in his bed is going to cut it when it comes to information he wants to to take part of.”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but let out an amused snort.</p>
<p>“No, I imagine he wouldn’t be very pleased hearing about that. Any suggestions then? I didn’t do my job today after all, merely a feeble attempt at listening through my stethoscope. Not sure I was able to hear a bloody thing with you performing that striptease act.”</p>
<p>Sherlock waived the cigarette in the air, forming a lingering cloud of smoke around him.</p>
<p>“Oh just put in the usual nonsense about my deplorable eating habits and the smoking, he loves to read about that, makes him feel entitled to nag about it afterwards. “</p>
<p>“Well now that you mention it.....your eating habits and the smoking is something I actually don’t approve of.”</p>
<p>“I said <i>he</i> likes to nag about it, not that you should start to do so as well. I don’t eat because digestion slows me down and food is.....well, boring. And I smoke because I have nothing else that can create any sort of high without containing an illicit substance and I’m sure both you and my brother can agree that nicotine is preferable to cocaine on any day.”</p>
<p>John sighed and rose to a seated position on the bed. He felt a bit sticky and longed for a shower but realised that a wash needed to wait until he got back to the barrack.</p>
<p>“Are you always this antsy after sex or are you actually suffering from a guilty conscience like me? It would be highly understandable if you did, considering your engagement” he said and drew a tired hand through his hair.</p>
<p>Sherlock immediately snapped back.</p>
<p>“Don’t be dense, I don’t feel guilty about anything, least of all things to do with sex. My engagement is my own private business, nothing to do with you.”</p>
<p>A bit hurt by the harshness of these words John got up from the bed and reached for his discarded pants from the floor. </p>
<p>Fine, if Sherlock didn’t want to talk to him about it, he certainly wasn’t going to push the issue. But it did smart a bit that he was this easily dismissed after the pleasant time they had just enjoyed together, less than ten minutes earlier.</p>
<p> A second later he felt a pair of arms snaking their way around his abdomen and after a moment’s hesitation he leaned into the embrace. </p>
<p>It wasn’t a straight-out apology but some sort of olive branch at least and John accepted it for what it was. They hardly knew each other anyway, he had no idea what kind of feelings, if any, Sherlock might be suffering from at the moment, but it did seem reasonable to assume that some sort of regret lingered as an afterthought even if a small part of John hoped that Sherlock’s relationship perhaps wasn’t as solid if he so eagerly jumped in the sack with another man at the first opportunity that presented itself.</p>
<p>Because wasn’t it rather strange the way this had all so suddenly unravelled into this unexpected aftermath from a sexual encounter John had certainly fantasized about but never, even in his wildest dreams had thought would become a reality.</p>
<p>Sherlock’s low voice drew him out of his pondering as he whispered into his ear:</p>
<p>“You were wonderful you know, doctor. I would really like to do this again, if you would be amenable to it.”</p>
<p>Despite the tingle of anticipation that these words created inside of him, John couldn’t help but put up some resistance, still smarting from the earlier harshness in Sherlock’s tone.</p>
<p>“Didn’t sound like you thought this was any of my business. I believe dense was the word you chose to call me.”</p>
<p>Sherlock turned him around and planted a surprisingly gentle kiss on his lips while looking deeply into his eyes.</p>
<p>“I know that Mycroft has appointed you to be my doctor, but I rather have you as something else, something of my own choosing. Don’t worry, officially you will still act as my physician and you’ll get whatever reward he has promised you in the end, but meanwhile, why not just play him for the fool that he is right under his nose and do what we want instead? He will be none the wiser, I promise you.”</p>
<p>John shook his head in exasperation but couldn’t help but allow the corners of his lips to tug a little.</p>
<p>“You’ll be the ruin of me, do you know that?”</p>
<p>Despite the fragile uncertainty of this new situation he felt warmth spread through his abdomen as he looked into Sherlock’s changeable eyes despite the nagging suspicion that this was indeed going to end up badly. For both of them probably.</p>
<p>“So what do you suggest we do to achieve that?” he asked despite his misgivings about Sherlock’s suggestion, his hand trailing along the sliver of smooth exposed skin across the chest where the dressing gown had created an opening between the panels.</p>
<p>Sherlock closed his eyes at the sensation, like a cat purring in satisfaction, while he continued to reveal his plan.</p>
<p>“We continue to see each other as agreed,  for as long as this arrangement is bound to last and you keep feeding Mycroft with what he wants to hear, take his money, turn in your reports and then take the reward he has undoubtedly dangled in front of your eyes to make you agree to this in the first place.”</p>
<p>John cringed for a second as that last bit made him sound like some calculating opportunist, but Sherlock opened his eyes to give him a challenging look, eyebrows raised as if daring John to say otherwise. </p>
<p>And he was right of course, a huge part of it had been about Mycroft’s offer to allow John a position at the research facility along with Mike Stamford, there was no use denying it. </p>
<p>And there was probably no use pretending that this was anything beyond pure carnal desire and a good time to be had with a man who would soon be married off to someone else and removed from John’s reach anyway. </p>
<p>They were never going to be anything beyond this.</p>
<p>To his surprise it felt slightly painful to consider that angle but for now he decided to waive it away on account of the promising arrangement that Sherlock was offering him right now.</p>
<p>But he still had so many questions that he really wanted to discuss, and one of them was burning more intensely than all the others, so he gave it a final try.</p>
<p>“Am I not allowed to talk about your fiancé at all?”</p>
<p>Sherlock released himself from their embrace and John immediately regretted his question. Did he really need to know who the man Sherlock was marrying really was? Surely he could settle for having Sherlock in bed and be none the wiser about everything else? </p>
<p>He didn’t even need to know the reason why Sherlock was doing this if he didn’t want to tell him. John could play the clueless lover if that was what Sherlock wanted him to be.</p>
<p>Sherlock took a final drag of his cigarette and then went over to window where he stumped it out against the white pane. Other marks of the same discoloration told John that he must have done this in here on several occasions before, probably to his brother’s utter chagrin. </p>
<p>With his back turned against John Sherlock then spoke.</p>
<p>“I’m not interested in talking about him and he can hardly be of any importance to you anyway. You may ask me questions regarding my health if you want to, as Mycroft will probably expect some sort of knowledge on the issue from you after a while, but beyond that, considering circumstances, I think it might be wise if we treat this for what it is – a good time that can’t last but can be as pleasant as we want it to be, if we are both committed to the terms. If you’re not comfortable with this, you can decide to continue as my doctor and we can keep up the charade of you stopping by to take my pulse a couple of times a week but nothing more. Or we make our own arrangement and enjoy the privileges Mycroft has bestowed on us for the remaining couple of months?”</p>
<p>While he spoke, he had turned to face John and now he held his hand out, hoping to come to an agreement. </p>
<p>For a second John was reminded of Mycroft offering his hand less than a week ago and the feeling of striking a deal with the devil that he had felt back then resurfaced for a second as he looked at the young man with the tousled curls and the delicate features, dressed in his green dressing gown, who extended a pale slender hand for John to shake.  </p>
<p>But just like then he accepted the offered hand, shook it firmly before he drew Sherlock closer to himself and pressed a kiss to his knuckles while he searchingly looked into his eyes. </p>
<p>This might very well lead to complete disaster, but it could also prove to be the best adventure to be had since returning from Afghanistan, and even if a sense of doom lurked at the back of his head, he knew that he was far too tempted to turn down any further activities in the bedroom now that he knew what having Sherlock undone between his legs actually felt like. </p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a soft kiss but then entangled himself from John’s grip.</p>
<p>“I think I need to arrange for someone to deal with the sheets before Mycroft returns. And you might want to get dressed and head back to your other job. A health exam doesn’t take too long, so it might seem suspicious if you stay any longer.”</p>
<p>Still spent from the sex, their talk as well as their newly issued agreement, John nodded and began to gather up his clothes from the floor. </p>
<p>He did not intend to go back to work upon his return this time, instead he was going to write up a fake report to send to Mycroft, take a shower and then enjoy a long restful nap. </p>
<p>A good cleaning up and some rest was just what he craved right now.</p>
<p>It felt a bit odd to bid Sherlock good bye though, it would have been nicer if they could have continued to spend some time together, but he realised that if they were going to pull this off they needed to be careful and stick to the rules. </p>
<p>This was not a romance after all, but a purely sexual arrangement and those did not include any activities outside of the bedroom.</p>
<p>Speaking of bedrooms...</p>
<p>“If we are to continue doing this I’m not sure I like to do it in your brother’s room, it feels a .....bit.....well, uncomfortable I guess. Like we’re sticking it to him even more than we already are by luring him with our new plan. So either you clean up that room of yours upstairs or introduce me to your own bedroom.”</p>
<p>Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed.</p>
<p>“Very well, we won’t be doing it in Mycroft’s room again. At least not this particular room. There are plenty of other places where we could be quite inventive.”</p>
<p>A glint of mischief in his eyes told John that he already had something particular in mind and he couldn’t help but sigh and wonder what the hell he had gotten himself into.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Unprepared</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He woke from the feeling of fingers curling around his throat, his eyes widening as he stared into the familiar features that loomed above him.</p>
<p>This was unexpected, a visit arranged without his knowledge. </p>
<p>It hadn’t happened before. He had always been prepared in advance and for a moment terror actually clawed away inside of him. </p>
<p>Something was wrong. </p>
<p>How could he have been asleep in the first place, he didn’t even remember going to bed? Yet here he was, feeling more powerless than he usually felt when lying in here, caught by the element of a surprise and unable to grasp anything beyond the sense of danger surrounding him.</p>
<p>The fingers did not release their vicelike grip and he felt how his vision began to blur as he panted for oxygen.</p>
<p>“Please....” he wheezed and stared straight into the other one’s eyes. But there was only black anger in them, a look of possessiveness clouding everything else.</p>
<p>Then the room faded into darkness and just before he passed out he could hear his name being called, but to no avail, he was already too far gone.</p>
<p>When he woke later he was alone again, something wet trickling down his neck and he felt with his fingers for the expected swelling where the hands had clawed their way around his throat. Traces of blood coated his fingertips as turned his head to look more closely.</p>
<p>There was a dryness to his mouth and as he regained consciousness enough to become aware of his body and his surroundings again he felt a familiar bitter taste on his tongue and realisation hit him hard.</p>
<p>He had been penetrated orally while passed out.</p>
<p>There was a glass of water waiting for him on the nightstand, but he angrily refused the offered gift. It was probably meant as some sort of apology but he was not going to accept it.</p>
<p>Because this was not a part of the rules that governed their arrangement. This had crossed over to something darker and undefined, something he had no wish to experience again.</p>
<p>At least he knew he was no longer observed and forced to remain where he was, so he slowly  rose from the bed on wobbly feet to make it to his own room upstairs, wondering with a rise of dread what the cause of this reaction had been all about.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Slipping off the edge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Working their way through the different rooms of the house proved to be an entertaining idea and the day when John actually had Sherlock bent over Mycroft’s mahogany desk inside the Bond villain lair was particularly tantalising even if John had been hesitant at first. But naturally Sherlock had been his persuasive self as was his particular forte, getting people to do what he wanted, and John’s resolve had crumbled easily.</p>
<p>Sherlock, not very surprisingly considering his fondness for research, proved to be a very curious and investigative lover and John felt himself rise to the challenge of meeting his need to try things out while enjoying the privilege of being the dominant one between them.  </p>
<p>Their sexual past was not something they had talked about in per se but Sherlock had bluntly stated that not many lovers, fiancé included, had crossed his path, without going into further detail, but there was a general impression that sex had not always seemed that important to him and as John had been an active participant of those activities both in medical school as well as during his early years abroad in the army it became natural that he took charge of the situation now that they had made their agreement to go through with this.</p>
<p>Being more experienced he guided the younger man to different ways of achieving the most pleasurable orgasms but Sherlock was a quick learner who not only took John’s advice but soon also managed to excel at his task by accomplishing sexual performances that made John’s cock hard as rock just thinking about them. It occasionally made him doubt that Sherlock truly was such an innocent ingénue in this field as he presented himself to be, but he chose to not stoke those flames of doubt any further, deciding to just enjoy what he had and not overanalyse things too much.</p>
<p>Mycroft was seldom to be seen as he was either away working or locked up in his office. On those particular occasions they had to be careful and John had initially not wanted to do anything while he was still under the same roof as them. </p>
<p>But just like the issue of fucking on top of Mycroft’s desk had been an obstacle in the beginning, John had soon been persuaded by Sherlock’s tortuous teasing to give in and have sex despite Mycroft’s presence in the house. It was just a matter of being more careful as Sherlock so readily had informed him as they shagged against a wall in the room furthest away from Mycroft’s domain, John stifling his cry as he came by biting into the fabric of a stuffed pillow while Sherlock’s mirthful eyes had looked at him. </p>
<p>The threat of getting caught apparently added a layer of further excitement to him even if John would have opted for a less risky option. He for one wasn’t eager to find out what sort of wrath Mycroft would unleash upon him if he found out that John was having sex with his little brother.</p>
<p> As he laid in his own bed in the barrack at night John sometimes wondered if he had been put under some spell as he so readily danced to his lover’s tune, thinking of how Sherlock always seemed to have his way in the end, but John also realised that if that was truly the case, he didn’t mind it. </p>
<p>He was actually happy for once, happy in a way he hadn’t felt for years, if possibly ever and that feeling of elation he experienced whenever he laid eyes on Sherlock meant more to him than anything else.</p>
<p>He was aware of the risk of getting too attached the more time they spent in each other’s company but as they never spoke of Sherlock’s fiancé or the impending wedding it was easy to forget the reason why he couldn’t have this forever. </p>
<p>Especially in the beginning he quickly forgot that this was an arrangement that wouldn’t last very long, and he craved Sherlock’s company far more than he had at first anticipated.</p>
<p>And a few weeks into their affair he realised that he was dangerously close to actually falling in love.</p>
<p>He did his best not to dig deeper into those feelings as it could only lead to misery in the end and when he was with Sherlock, had his agile body pressed against his own, when he buried his cock inside of him, had his tongue trailing patterns across that pale smooth skin, staring into those eyes that seemed to change colour according to light or kissed his luscious lips, it was easy to just enjoy the moment, give himself into what he had right now and not think of the consequences.</p>
<p> But there were the other times, when they were not together, the days of waiting, of not being able to communicate at all, that was beginning to tear him down.</p>
<p>And as misery finally came, jealousy was not far behind.</p>
<p>Because even if Sherlock never spoke a word of his fiancé, there were occasionally small telling signs of his existence that made themselves known anyway. </p>
<p>It could be such innocent details as a message brought to Sherlock from a servant that originated from the other man, or a vase of flowers where a card of affectionate phrases was still visible among the stems. </p>
<p>But it could also occasionally be something more horrible, like signs on Sherlock’s body of someone having taken his pleasures from it, like faded bruises from fingerprints that must have dug deep into those slender hips during sex, or a love bite on the neck for example. The first time he noticed them it felt like he had been hit straight in the solar plexus and the air literary went out of him before he recoiled as if burnt by the sight. </p>
<p>The idea of someone else enjoying what he had began to consider as his had been an unpleasant reminder that <i>he</i> actually was the interloper who borrowed Sherlock for a while, and not the other way around.</p>
<p>And as he had no face on this man, he plagued himself by imagining Sherlock lying in bed with men of different appearances, allowing someone else to enjoy what John so desperately wished could have been his alone to have. </p>
<p>And it began to chip away on the happiness he had initially felt and he had to try really hard to not let any of these feelings show when he met Sherlock the next time, not give him any cause to believe that he felt more than what they had agreed upon. </p>
<p>But it soon became hard to pretend and sometimes Sherlock looked at him as if he saw how John felt. He never said anything though so John kept his mouth shut as well and they continued with their little game by pretending to be content with the rules of the agreement even if plagued John immensely every time he had to leave Sherlock again</p>
<p>At first he had been careful to at least do the obligatory check of pulse, lung function and blood pressure as well as weaving in some other details to satisfy Mycroft when he sent in the reports. He couldn’t afford to neglect his duties even if he unofficially no longer preformed any medical duties.</p>
<p>He wrote some stern words about the smoking habits and some pretend guidelines on how Sherlock should be eating and sleeping to feel better. </p>
<p>He even went so far as to invent a made-up chart of calory intake that he believed his patient would benefit from and Sherlock had with a hint of exasperation complained about that particular detail as it meant that Mycroft suddenly had decided on what they should eat based on what the chart said, ordering food with a high calory index to be served at every meal and it had been a real bother for Sherlock to get through those arrangements when he really wasn’t interested in food to begin with.</p>
<p>“It usually ends up with <i>him</i> overindulging instead and as his clothes are beginning to look a bit snug as of late I assume he’s going to stop with the meals soon enough, but please, try to keep the details in those reports to a minimal consequence for me. We are after all not particularly interested in my <i>actual</i> health, are we?” he said as he lay with his head against John’s firm shoulder, trailing a finger along his naked torso one afternoon.</p>
<p>And while those words actually caused John some discomfort because it reminded him of how far along he had gone in the ruse to fool Mycroft, he promised to not overdo it in the future.</p>
<p>And indeed, as time went by, he became a bit sloppy instead. Wrote the reports with minimal effort and soon omitted anything beyond the absolutely necessary.</p>
<p>One morning when their appointment had been scheduled for an early visit he actually bumped into Mycroft in front of the house as he got out of the car and his employer was about to get into his own car, heading into town. </p>
<p>He had looked his usual impeccable self, a briefcase in one hand, an umbrella in the other, a herringbone patterned coat and his hair neatly combed without a single hair out of place. In his usual politely distant voice he had greeted John but his eyes had been narrowed and his features were particularly standoffish. </p>
<p>“Good morning, Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>John actually froze for a second at the sight of him, stumped by the unexpected presence of someone he had tried to put as far away from his mind as possible. </p>
<p>He did not like the idea of fooling anyone out of their money, or fooling anyone regarding anything for that matter, but so far into this ruse he was equally unwilling to end his arrangement with Sherlock, so he had neglected to think too closely about his betrayal of Mycroft’s trust in him.</p>
<p> Seeing the man now made him suddenly aware of it again.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Mr Holmes. Off to work?” he had finally managed to say, trying to sound casual.</p>
<p>Mycroft gave him one of those penetrating stares and did not reply, causing John to fear that Holmes senior perhaps could see what his intentions with Sherlock were and it made John grab a firmer hold of his medical bag that he still carried with him, more out of pretence than anything else, as if the mere presence of it would convince anyone that his intentions were purely professional.</p>
<p>When the silence threatened to actually grow uncomfortable, Mycroft finally spoke.</p>
<p>“I’ve been meaning to ask, how is my brother faring health wise? Your recent reports have been surprisingly sparse as of late.”</p>
<p>John had felt a cold lump of dread form in his chest when hearing those words. Had he been slipping, become too negligent, only bothering with what Sherlock had to offer and not made sure that their scheme would not be exposed?  </p>
<p>Frantically he searched for a good explanation.</p>
<p>“There has not been much to account for lately, but I’ll try to be more thorough in my reports from now on,” he had managed to say, trying his best to sound as neutral as possible. “Your brother is doing splendidly though. He is, as far as I can ascertain, a perfectly healthy young man. No progress when it comes to the smoking I’m afraid and the eating....well, you already know considering that you dine together in the evenings. But beyond that....”</p>
<p>“Mm, yes, the <i>food</i>. In my opinion he’s looking thinner than ever,” Mycroft interrupted sharply.</p>
<p>John frowned and tried to remember if this was something he had noticed as well but could not recall having observed any changes in his lover’s physique. </p>
<p>On the other hand, they had not known each other that long, maybe it was more noticeable to someone who had spent more time in Sherlock’s presence.</p>
<p>“I’ll look into that,” he had murmured and then made his excuses before Mycroft could come up with anything else that pointed out how neglectful John had become of his duties.</p>
<p>As he had found Sherlock lounging in one of the smaller rooms on the second floor, a book in his hands, still casually dressed in one of his many dressing gowns, John told him about his conversation with Mycroft.</p>
<p>As usual Sherlock was not bothered by this information.</p>
<p>“He’s just envious. The diet he’s just started on isn’t working, that’s bound to annoy him immensely and make him more irritable. Don’t worry about it.” </p>
<p>Sherlock had put his book down next to him and now pulled John closer by snaking a finger through one of his belt-loops, clearly not interested in taking about Mycroft when there were other more pleasurable things to occupy himself with. </p>
<p>Soon enough John had found himself with his trousers around his ankles while Sherlock was on his knees, devouring John’s cock with his mouth, lavishing the shaft generously with his eager tongue, sucking and moaning, a trickle of saliva dripping from the corner of his lips as he worked his way from the root to the head like a hungry person on a sugar-high would consume an exceptionally tasty lollipop.</p>
<p>John carded his fingers through Sherlock’s soft hair, his head bent backwards as a cry of pure lust escaped his lips seconds before he came hard down Sherlock’s throat, his cock pulsating as the semen trickled down the oesophagus, Sherlock’s lips glistening from the precum he had enthusiastically lapped up earlier.  </p>
<p>John looked down at the sight in front of him, the young man who was still kneeling between his legs and he couldn’t help but feel how very lucky he was to have someone like Sherlock to share this moment with. </p>
<p>Endorphins were still overwhelming his system, which meant that logic and reality had not yet settled into his brain.  But as he was about to leave later that same morning he couldn’t help but wonder if Sherlock used sex as a diversion to keep John from bringing harsh reality into their little fantasy as he always distracted John with something sexual whenever John fretted over something or tried talking about things that Sherlock obviously found difficult to answer. </p>
<p>John had a nagging feeling that he was missing something important when trying to look at the situation objectively and with the memory of Mycroft’s comment about Sherlock being thinner than ever he had cast an assessing glance at his lover’s body. </p>
<p>But even if Sherlock was rather thin indeed, the hint of his ribcage actually visible when he stretched out, John could not find any cause for concern. </p>
<p>Sherlock was probably right when he said that Mycroft was envious of his physique, who wouldn’t be? Sherlock was the most beautiful man John had ever seen so no wonder if Mycroft felt the occasional pang of envy when standing next to his younger brother. Comparisons were bound to be made by others and sibling rivalry could be such a poisonous thing, as John very well knew from experience. So he took Sherlock’s advice and waived Mycroft’s ominous words from his mind instead.</p>
<p>During another visit he noticed a bloodied tissue discarded in a waste basket in Sherlock’s cluttered room, but when he, with a hint of alarm had asked about it, it was explained away as being on account of a nose bleed the night before, and beyond that instance, John never caught anything that might create any concern on his part. </p>
<p>Another odd thing that he never received a satisfying answer to, was why they could fuck in every bloody room of the house except for Sherlock’s bedroom. But whenever he raised the question Sherlock always managed to divert him, once even claiming that having sex in a bedroom was too pedestrian when there were so many other more interesting options to choose from.</p>
<p>“Whatever happened to things being comfortable as well as interesting?” John had tried but he had only received a teasing nudge to the ribs.</p>
<p>“Comfortable? Are you getting old, Dr Watson? Am I beginning to wear you out perhaps?”</p>
<p>And as there was no way John was going to accept such a taunting without retaliation he had grabbed his lover firmly by the arms and pushed him forcefully against a book case in  the library before devouring his mouth with a passionate kiss.</p>
<p>“Too old you say? I’ll show you just how strong and able I can be when I need to. In fact you’ll be feeling it for days, and when you do you’ll regret ever questioning my stamina,” he had growled before twisting Sherlock around so his back was turned against him, spreading his legs while Sherlock invitingly had presented his arse for John to claim.</p>
<p>And that had been the end of the discussion about Sherlock’s bedroom. </p>
<p>John would readily admit that he was too easily distracted by Sherlock’ allure for his own good, but as the reward was so sweet he fund that getting answers to his questions might not always be that important. </p>
<p>And he certainly didn’t mind having Sherlock spread out on a sofa, pressed against a bookcase or bent over a dinner table instead of doing it in a bed. It was unorthodox for sure, but so was everything else about the man.</p>
<p>John made sure to fill in his reports more excessively from now on though by adding some details, like the nosebleed, the weight Sherlock claimed to currently have, how many cigarettes he smoked each day and so forth. The details he didn’t have he made up with the aid of Sherlock who willingly supplied him with the information he needed.  </p>
<p>John never saw him step on a scale though, never demanded any proof of what he wrote down, it was all based on what Sherlock told him and while they continued to enjoy each other’s bodies sexually all over the house the medical bag usually remained forgotten in a corner.</p>
<p>When things finally came crashing down around them his negligence was one of the things that he ended up regretting the most.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. A Holmesian pre-dinner conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock was bent over his microscope when there was a sharp knock on the door, Mycroft knew this despite not being able to see him, as his brother had been glued to that very spot for the past two days. </p><p>As expected, Sherlock ignored the knock. He knew who it was, and he had no interest in what the person on the other side of the door had to tell him. </p><p>He was in the final stages of an experiment so technically he wasn’t busy, merely wrapping things up, and Mycroft knew enough about science and his brother to know that nothing he had going at the moment was something that couldn’t wait for an hour or two, so instead of standing like a fool in front of the closed door, he resolutely turned the handle and walked right in as if invited to do so.</p><p>He knew it irked his brother when he did this, first trying for politeness just to breach protocol by not waiting for an answer, but Mycroft was tired of playing by the rules when it came to Sherlock. Rules didn’t apply to him when his brother was concerned and as long as Sherlock insisted on being such an insolent brat Mycroft had no regrets about treating him like one.</p><p>“Dinner’s ready” he said while he gave the room a critical assessment.  It consisted of the usual mess and he felt the waft of something unpleasant coming from one of the beakers next to Sherlock’s hunched form. He had no desire to know exactly what that was and chose to focus on the person in the room instead of the mess that would only cause him to despair at the sight of it. </p><p>When Sherlock finally moved out of here this room would need to be sanitised from top to bottom. </p><p>As expected there was no reply to his dinner invitation and he waded through the debris cluttering the floor to make his way over to the desk were the homemade chemistry set as well as the microscope was taking up space. </p><p>He had learned not to ask Sherlock about what exactly his experiments consisted of as he never managed to receive a satisfying answer and more often than not did it only cause him to feel alarm over what his brother had chosen to spend his time on. The more absurd the better seemed to be Sherlock’s motto.</p><p>Often enough Mycroft allowed Sherlock to simply remain in his room to plotter with his things to his heart’s content but tonight he had topics he wanted to discuss so dinner was not optional.</p><p>Whatever John Watson claimed, Sherlock had lost weight for some time now and as he hardly had much weight to spare to begin with, this fact worried Mycroft. </p><p>That he himself struggled with the issue of weight but in the opposite direction and had been doing so since being a plump little child made him even more aware of it whenever he saw Sherlock’s thin wrists jutting out from the sleeves of his dressing gown at breakfast, picking away listlessly at his food without taking a bite, or the way his cheekbones seemed sharper than ever in his angular face. </p><p>But there were other, more pressing matters that worried him even further.</p><p>Because while Sherlock simultaneously showed signs of being brittle and almost physically weak at the moment, his mood was not consistent with the way his body showed signs of fatigue. In fact, he seemed to switch from appearing very happy, if that was actually a mood he was capable of having, to being edgy and restless and then downright depressed at times. For a person who normally suffered terrible mood swings to begin with it was telling that those seemed tame in comparison to the way he behaved now.</p><p>When Sherlock continued to ignore him, Mycroft picked up a ruler that lay discarded on the table and poked his brother in the ribs with it to get a reaction from him.</p><p>He had expected some sort of outburst but all he got was a glare and a histrionic sigh. </p><p>“<i>What</i>?”</p><p>“I don’t like repeating myself and I know you heard me perfectly fine the first time.”</p><p>“So what if it’s dinner, go eat it yourself! I’m not hungry.”</p><p>“Yes, you indeed never seem to be hungry these says. Not that you ever were very interested in food but this is getting downright ridiculous. Makes me wonder what that doctor of yours is doing if he can’t see that your wasting away.”</p><p>That finally earned him a reaction.</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean? He can’t be held responsible for me hating the food at this place. What’s he supposed to do about it, come around to force-feed me? Or is that <i>your</i> job?”</p><p>Mycroft studied his brother’s face intently. </p><p>His eyes were bright but there was a tiredness to him, he seemed exhausted, as if holding on by a mere thread. </p><p>Mycroft wondered how his brother really felt right now and for a second there was a pang of sorrow that pierced through him when looked at Sherlock. </p><p>What was going to happen to him when he would no longer be in Mycroft’s care and under his watchful eyes? It was a thought he had decided to not dwell on too closely ever since the announcement of the wedding had been declared but tonight something in the way Sherlock looked at him made that thought rise to the surface. </p><p>Quickly he pushed it away, he had no time for diversions and right now they needed to go down for dinner, he had a conference call at nine that he couldn’t neglect and he needed some time to prepare for it.</p><p>“I’m merely asking myself why a person who comes by twice a week to check on your health has failed to put in his report that your clearly losing weight. I’m beginning to wonder how much effort he’s actually putting into those reports.”</p><p>“He does what he’s told, Mycroft, you can’t actually control what he chooses to write in them as well. If that were the case, you could just as well write them yourself.”</p><p>“Maybe <i>I</i> would be able to do a better job. He’s clearly being very lazy about them. Or stupid if he doesn’t think that I’ll notice that he’s copied a lot of the numbers from previous reports into the new ones. It’s not actually possible for a person to have the exact same blood pressure and pulse five times in a row.”</p><p>Sherlock’s nostrils flared but he remained quiet. What he had been about to say remained unspoken, so Mycroft continued instead.</p><p>“It has also struck me how remarkably without friction his visits have been conducted. Considering that I know how bad you can be when you put your mind to it and that you went through a whole string of doctors that barely lasted more than a few weeks, it is quite the feat to have undergone two months caring for you.”</p><p>“I thought that would make you happy, not be something for you to criticize.” </p><p>“I’m not criticizing, I’m merely baffled. And quite curious as to what sort of magic he might be pulling if you haven’t made him run for the hills yet.”</p><p>“You told me yourself to reign myself in regarding him.”</p><p>“Yes, but since when have you ever listened to me? Or anyone for that matter?”</p><p>Sherlock let out a tired sight.</p><p>“There’s just no pleasing you is there, Mycroft? Sorry to disappoint, but perhaps I’m simply not interested in playing your games anymore, perhaps I’ve realised that it’s easier to allow him to just do what he’s here to do and be done with it. If it’s not him it will be someone else and at least Dr Watson has the good sense of not being a complete idiot like the others you’ve sent my way in the past. Besides, he saved my life if you recall. So get off his back will you?”</p><p>“I’m hardly on “his back” as you so eloquently put it. In fact, I think I’m being surprisingly lenient towards him considering the fact that he gets paid to do a job that he can hardly bother to do properly.”</p><p> “Why do you even care about this? As you pointed out earlier, it’s been two months already, what’s another two in the larger scheme of things? This whole situation will cease to be your responsibility after the time is up and you won’t have to suffer through any more reports.”</p><p>In a rare moment of physical contact between them Mycroft reached out and grabbed his brother’s chin so he was forced to meet his eyes when he spoke.</p><p>“I’m merely worried about you, that’s all. You are very important to me, whether you choose to believe it or not. And when I look at you, you don’t seem to be coping fine at all right now.”</p><p>Sherlock twisted out of his grip and slumped down a bit where he was sitting.</p><p>“I’m just tired, Mycroft. You know I’m hardly sleeping right now and with all the wedding preparations…”</p><p>“That you are certainly not involved in,” Mycroft was quick to point out.</p><p>“Doesn’t mean I’m not aware of them happening. I get the details reported to me whether I want to or not. Then there’s that dinner party in two weeks as well, it’s all just a bit....<i>overwhelming</i>.”</p><p>“Well, it is what comes with planning a wedding at this scale.”</p><p>“I never asked for it....”</p><p>“No, but <i>he</i> wants it so there you are. That’s what marriage is all about, I hear. <i>Compromising…</i> “</p><p>“Sounds dull.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Mycroft agreed. “But remember that you brought this upon yourself, Sherlock, so it’s not an option to back away from it now.”</p><p>“I’m hardly the only one who benefits from going through with this!”</p><p>“Believe me, little brother, it is not a benefit to see you walk down that aisle in two months, but you know as well as I do that there is no other way. At least you husband is absolutely beguiled by you, I’m sure you can use that to your advantage in your married life.”</p><p>Sherlock looked away, a hint of defeat in his eyes.</p><p>“You know it won’t be like that,” he said.</p><p>And there it was again, that pang of sorrow piercing through Mycroft and he had to make an effort not to let it show on his features. </p><p>Instead he chose to change the subject.</p><p>“Look, Sherlock. I have a conference call with Charles Magnussen and his lackeys in less than an hour, I need to prepare myself for that. The prime minister is expecting results by the end of the week and that despicable man just doesn’t know how to compromise, so I need to be at my best game.”</p><p>“I honestly don’t know how you can stomach dealing with him.”</p><p>“The prime minister or Mr Magnussen?”</p><p>“Well, technically both I guess, but in this case I was referring to Magnussen.”</p><p>Mycroft let out a dry, sardonic laugh.</p><p>“Well, it’s not as if I have any options. In my line of work the need to deal with all sorts of unpleasant people is part of the job description.”</p><p>“But considering everything he has.....” Sherlock began but Mycroft raised a hand to stop him from going any further.</p><p>“Stop stalling, Sherlock. No need to remind me what that man is capable of. Your fiancé made sure of that. Instead of dwelling on things we can’t change, we need to look ahead instead. Dinner is getting cold downstairs, so you're coming with me even if I have to drag you by the hair to join me at the table.”</p><p>A flash of anger darkened his brother’s eyes but at least it was preferable to the listlessness Sherlock had showcased earlier. Anger was familiar, anger meant that he had some spirit left in him even if it was aimed against Mycroft.</p><p>“I would like to see you try,” he hissed.</p><p>“Oh, don’t provoke me, Sherlock, or I’ll actually do it.”</p><p>Their eyes locked for a second, a silent war of wills raging between them, as had been their habit since childhood. But Mycroft did not budge and perhaps this was the best proof of Sherlock’s state of mind that he was the one to give in first, far earlier than he usually did.</p><p>Even if it pleased Mycroft to see him rise from his chair to join him downstairs, victory did not taste as sweet as it should tonight. </p><p>A talk with Dr Watson was perhaps due to be scheduled after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Look who's coming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a satisfying rip of fabric being torn, buttons scattering across the floor when John decided to rid Sherlock of his tight blue shirt by tearing it open with his hands to get access to those firm abdominal muscles visible beneath Sherlock’s soft skin.</p>
<p>The younger man was splayed out across a large black table in the dining room, his paleness accentuating against the black smooth surface behind him and John couldn’t get enough of the sight of his lover ready and wanting, impatiently waiting for John to claim his body.</p>
<p>John could feel his own cock press painfully against his trousers as he noticed the bulge through Sherlock’s tight dress pants that accentuated his slender hips and fit his thin waist like a pair of gloves, no belt needed. </p>
<p>He reached out and tore at the button as well as the zipper while yanking his own sweater over his head to get rid of it. He needed his own skin to make contact with what he had in front of him but things were going too slow, he needed to feel that body pressed against his own and he needed it now.</p>
<p>Impatiently he growled when his sweater deprived him of the glorious sight of Sherlock with his back pressed against the table surface and when finally rid of the hindrance his frustration caused him to pull at Sherlock’s pants quite forcefully, tearing them apart by the hem as well so he got an eyeful of Sherlock’s erect cock, a sight that immediately sent a jolt of excitement straight to his groin.</p>
<p>He felt a hunger that never could be satisfied by anyone else, Sherlock was everything he had ever wanted and he felt certain that he would never tire of the sight of the other man lying with his lips slightly parted, eyes closed as his long dark lashes rested against  his soft cheeks, vibrating with need for John to overpower him, devour him, give him release. The idea of Sherlock who ordinarily was such a proud and headstrong person giving himself so completely to John’s strong capable hands made his head spin with excitement every time. It felt like catching a thoroughbred horse and rein it in sufficiently to make it eat out of your hand, John still sometimes found himself thanking his lucky star over how things had turned out, although he never allowed the other man to see that he felt like this, instead he kept his domineering persona intact during their sexual acts and enjoyed deftly setting the tone when they had sex.</p>
<p>John lowered his head to suck on one of the hardened nipples, swirling his tongue over it while he heard Sherlock moan in pleasure, his arms stretched out over his head so his ribcage became prominent and John allowed his hands to run up and down over his torso while he bit softly into the taught flesh of Sherlock’s concave stomach, so much flatter and smoother than his own. So utterly perfect, so gorgeous that he could scarcely believe he was the one allowed to enjoy claiming that body.</p>
<p>With eager hands John spread Sherlock’s thighs apart and then lowered his head to swipe his tongue against the sensitive skin on the inside, ghosting his breath over the wet surface just to see goosebumps of pure pleasure break out, before he continued the journey with his tongue until he reached Sherlock’s testicles.</p>
<p>He could feel Sherlock’s fingers gripping frantically at his head, as if trying to stop himself from unravelling, holding on for dear life as John took one of the balls into his mouth, circled his tongue around it before plopping it out of his mouth and rub it between his fingers instead.</p>
<p>“Aaah, John....” he heard Sherlock gasp above his head. “Please.....!”</p>
<p>“Please what?” John whispered teasingly. “You want me to stop?”</p>
<p>“No!”</p>
<p>“Well, then shut up and let me continue.”</p>
<p>“Nnng....”</p>
<p>John smiled and then he bent his head down again, this time taking the hard leaking cock in his mouth to suck teasingly at the tip before allowing it to go down his throat as far as his jaws allowed him to stretch them.</p>
<p>Sherlock's back arched in pleasure, every muscle in his body tensing and he looked like a piece of art displaying pure carnal lust, his skin like marble against the blackness beneath him. </p>
<p>John increased his movements and moved his tongue down the shaft and back to the balls as Sherlock practically whimpered from the loss of his hot lips around his cock.</p>
<p>“Patience, gorgeous,” John smiled before he returned to the now red and pulsating cock in front of him, swallowing it and then bobbing his head up and down with increasing pace while Sherlock’s fingers in his hair sent his eyes actually tearing from the intensity of the grip.</p>
<p>Then with a deep shudder followed by a loud filthy moan Sherlock came, hot sticky semen squirting down John’s throat that he tried his best to swallow as it came, although some of it trickled down the corners of his mouth.</p>
<p>John felt the pulsating cock slowly soften as he withdrew his head, a tingle of anticipation run through his body as he heard Sherlock’s breathing even out and then return to normal before he nimbly slid down to John’s level on the floor and kissed him, the taste of semen and saliva mixing in John’s mouth as Sherlock’s tongue penetrated his mouth with eagerness, as if not just having orgasmed spectacularly into John’s mouth a mere moment ago. Sherlock’s stamina was always a wonder to behold, the dexterity of his movements a true blessing in John’s eyes.</p>
<p>Because as gladly as he received what John gave him, just as readily he wanted to return the favour.</p>
<p>“My turn,” he said as he ended the kiss and looked into John’s eyes that were already heady with lust and excitement.</p>
<p>Then he leaned in and began to suck on John’s throat, scraping his teeth slightly against the sensitive skin while his hands deftly dealt with unbuttoning Johns trousers.</p>
<p>John closed his eyes and melted into the feeling of Sherlock’s hot lips against his skin, the smell that was so essentially him that it surrounded John as he laid there, the fingers that undid his trousers effortlessly and already tugged at the waistband of his pants.</p>
<p>In a surge of possessive passion John grabbed him around the waist and switched their positions so Sherlock ended up on his back against the carpet and John straddled his naked hips.</p>
<p>He then raised his lower body enough to shimmy out of his pants before he grabbed his leaking cock and pressed it against Sherlock’s glistening lips that opened up for him and prepared for the intrusion with an eager smile playing on them.</p>
<p>“Good boy,” John whispered as he pushed his cock further down Sherlock’s throat while he grabbed a handful of dark curls to dictate the pace himself.</p>
<p>He knew he was a dominant lover but Sherlock had given him enough reason to conclude that it was appreciated and well-received so he never hesitated to indulge in taking charge of the situation while having sex, as he had so little control when it came to the rest of their time together.</p>
<p>Sherlock’s tongue glided along the underside of his shaft while John pushed his head up and down by the grip of his hair, staring into the young man’s beautiful features as he sucked his cock with eager movements.  </p>
<p>“You’re such a talented little cocksucker, aren’t you?” he said and increased the pace even further, knowing that Sherlock could handle him being a bit rough, despite a small gagging sound coming from the outstretched mouth.</p>
<p>Heat pooled through his abdomen down to his groin at the sight of Sherlock and a part of John wanted to cradle the younger man’s face and declare how much he actually loved him, that he wanted him to be John’s forever and always. </p>
<p>He actually had to bite his own tongue to prevent himself from blurting this out. Such words were neither demanded nor asked for. If anything they would probably cause Sherlock to stop what he was doing and get a pitiful look in his eyes instead before making an awkward excuse and withdraw. So instead of succumbing to the impulse of declaring his secret feelings John steeled himself and allowed himself to only feel the physical part of what his body was experiencing and not what the heart wanted him to express.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Sherlock continued to explore his cock with his eager tongue, swirling it around the glands, lapping up the precum that leaked from the slit before it returned to move up and down the shaft with increasing pace as John panted heavily on top of him, his grip around Sherlock’s curls tightening from pleasure.</p>
<p>Then teeth suddenly scraped against the delicate skin, creating the perfect sensation between pleasure and pain so utterly difficult to contain that John gasped out loud while Sherlock got a pleased glimmer in his eye before he allowed his tongue to return to the job, thus sending a thrill of pleasure so overwhelming that John for a second could see nothing but white spots dance in front of him as he closed his eyes against the tidal wave of desire.</p>
<p>“What you do to me, Sherlock...” he gasped brokenly, his breathing heavy and his eyes glazed, “it’s going to be the death of me one day....”</p>
<p>“So you keep saying,” Sherlock smirked, his lips still wrapped around his cock before he went in for the final blow which led John right over the edge, coming hard, actually hearing himself cry out from raw exaltation before he slumped forward against Sherlock and buried his face in the crook between the other man’s neck and shoulder where he remained panting heavily until his breathing evened out and his heart stopped racing.</p>
<p>They remained lying on the floor for another ten minutes, just enjoying the proximity to one another while the silence of the house settled around them and the sun sent rays of light through the lace curtain in the window that created intricate shadowy patterns on the carpet.</p>
<p>Sherlock was the first to rise and John saw him pick up his torn shirt and roll it into a heap before he bent to retrieve his pants.</p>
<p>“Well, that’s another shirt you owe me, Dr Watson. This used to be a favourite of mine. Apparently it brought out the blue tones in my eyes, according to the sales person.”</p>
<p>“She was right about that, it is a good colour on you. When my salary one day can afford to shop on Jermyn Street I’ll be sure to replace the ones I ruined.” John said, still enjoying the feeling of endorphins rushing through his blood stream, a feeling of drowsiness settling into his limbs now that their physical exertion was over and done with.</p>
<p>“That’s were my <i>brother</i> buys his clothes, not me,” he heard Sherlock mutter in the background, and John could just picture the sulk on those beautiful lips.</p>
<p>“Well, wherever your clothes are bought from I’m sure there are too many zeroes on the prize tag for me to afford shopping there.”</p>
<p>He opened his eyes to look at his lover who was standing a few feet away looking back at him.</p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a crooked little smile but didn’t deny his words. Instead he just put his pants on and then reached for his discarded packet of cigarettes on the table before he walked over to the large window where he leaned against the pane in a relaxed position. </p>
<p>This was their usual light banter that normally followed after sex, a way to return back to reality without making things tense and strange between them. Not a word was spoken about the fact than John, if he ever did manage to earn enough money to buy Sherlock a new fancy shirt, would no longer be able to give it to him. Soon enough this was going to be over and done with and someone else would take Sherlock to bed and provide him with expensive clothes.</p>
<p>Sherlock lighted his cigarette and turned his gaze outside while he slowly exhaled the first cloud of smoke into the air. </p>
<p>He actually looked relaxed for once. Normally there was always this feeling of pent-up energy radiating from him, even straight after sex, a restlessness that sometimes worried John a bit. </p>
<p>That was also one of those things they never talked about.</p>
<p>John watched him, reluctant to move from his position on the carpet even if he knew that he should at least begin to put some clothes on soon. </p>
<p>Even if they were alone he knew that staff members moved about the house, silently performing their duties like shadows in the background and getting caught like this, spent and naked on the dining room floor, would be preferable if it could be avoided.</p>
<p>But he simply couldn’t gather the will to end this blissful moment by rising and prepare himself for his departure. The more time he spent with Sherlock, the more reluctant to leave he became by each visit. </p>
<p>Suddenly he noticed how Sherlock tensed over by the window, his eyes narrowing as he observed something outside.</p>
<p>“John, you might want to consider getting up and putting some clothes on now,” he said and quickly stumped his cigarette against his usual place on the windowpane, the spell of tranquillity abruptly broken.</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>John rose to rest on his elbows but did not move beyond that. A pang of worry made itself known inside of him though when he noticed how tense Sherlock suddenly looked.</p>
<p>“Because we’re about to get company. A car just pulled up on the driveway.”</p>
<p>John quickly sprung up from his lazy position on the floor and scrambled for his clothes in panic.</p>
<p>“I thought you said he had an important meeting in London today? That he wouldn’t be back for hours!”</p>
<p>“It isn’t Mycroft who’s coming.”</p>
<p>John froze for a second, one leg hallway through his trousers as he cast a bewildered look at Sherlock who had now turned very pale. </p>
<p>“Then who is it?” John asked a second before the answer hit him of its own accord.</p>
<p>Oh no....</p>
<p>“Your fiancé?” he concluded, a combination of curiosity, hatred, jealousy and panic vying for dominance inside of him at the idea of finally facing the man that had haunted his thoughts for so long.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Sherlock answered in a hollow tone that John didn’t know what to make of. “So get your clothes on and then leave, I’ll go out to stall him while you get yourself in order.”</p>
<p>“But...”</p>
<p>“Now, John!”</p>
<p>And with those words Sherlock was out the door, leaving John to ponder about the impact of the man who had just interrupted their peace.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Facing a foe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With the limited amount of time he had to work with John had to trust that he presented a half-decent appearance and hadn’t forgotten anything before he stepped out of the dining room. A moment’s panic occurred when he couldn’t remember where he had put his medical bag and he tried racking his brain to come up with the answer when he heard voices coming from downstairs and got distracted. </p>
<p>He could only make out parts of the conversation, phrases spoken by the fiancé while Sherlock’s words were inaudible from where John was standing. </p>
<p>“.......I needed to see you...........Mycroft said your doctor would be coming today.........I sincerely hope you had more clothes on while he was here, darling..........”</p>
<p>John could feel himself squirm as he heard his rival utter words that could just as easily have come from his own lips and revealed a closeness between the couple that he resented. He was very tempted to take a sneak peek of the man, just to see what he looked like.</p>
<p> On the other hand he was not particularly eager to see Sherlock lock lips with someone else, to bear witness to the intimacy that they shared, making him feel like an intruder who lurked in the shadows just to steal a moment of passion from a person he had no business having it off with in the first place. It put his own position with Sherlock in a vulnerable place that he had no wish to be reminded of.</p>
<p>Because, at the end of the day, Sherlock was still going to marry his fiancé and John was nothing more than a dalliance to keep him entertained for now. </p>
<p>Never before had this impact hit John as hard as it did right this moment when he stood there eavesdropping on the couple downstairs, hearing the distinct sound of a wet kiss being given and the soft murmuring of Sherlock’s voice as he spoke.</p>
<p>No, he had no desire to expose himself to that image.</p>
<p>Besides, Sherlock had told him to leave and considering the state of his dishevelled appearance and the dining room reeking of sex, sweat and bodily fluids it was best if he managed to sneak out unseen.</p>
<p>So when he heard a door open and then close, the voices disappearing, he took his chance and quickly made it down the stairs and then left through the front door, despite the risk of being seen through a window. He hoped Sherlock would be able to keep his fiancé occupied enough from looking out and after he had quietly pulled the front door shut behind him, he ran.</p>
<p>He had recently insisted on walking back to work on his own instead of being driven, simply because he didn’t want Mycroft’s chauffeur to tell his boss how long he stayed with Sherlock during his visits. </p>
<p>Today he was glad that he had made that decision as it gave him the freedom to just get out of there more or less unnoticed. </p>
<p>Sherlock had showed him a secret pathway through a hedge in the furthest corner of the estate where he himself had sneaked out without Mycroft’s surveillance team noticing, thereby avoiding the hassle of going through the front gate where cameras were placed. </p>
<p>As Mycroft had no idea what John and Sherlock were up to, he had no reason to check old camera feeds or time stamps to keep track of John’s coming and goings, but it still felt safer to take the secret pathway today. </p>
<p>As he briskly walked all the way back to the facility John’s head was swarming with unpleasant ideas and images of what Sherlock and his fiancé were doing right now. </p>
<p>He had been plagued by jealousy before today, strongly hating the fact that Sherlock’s body would occasionally be entwined with someone other than himself, but now, when almost faced with the other man in person, it increased the level of envy and resentment even more. He felt a strong urge to just march straight back, ignoring Sherlock’s orders and reveal himself to his rival, make him aware of John’s actions for the past two months and what sort of threat he actually posed to the upcoming marriage. But a rational part of his brain reminded him that such an act would hardly be appreciated.</p>
<p>Not even once had Sherlock expressed a desire to put a stop to the wedding or that John should somehow supplant his fiancé’s place by his side. </p>
<p>In fact, as Sherlock never spoke of the man at all, John had no idea what the nature of their relationship actually was and why Sherlock had opted to take a lover mere months before tying the knot. </p>
<p>He had never told John that he loved him or that he wanted things to continue after the wedding so what Sherlock really felt about anything was anyone’s guess.</p>
<p>In fact, they had never spoken a single word about anything that had to do with this whole situation that now plagued John so much that he, as soon as he reached his destination, in frustration stormed into the barrack with eyes like thunder and pounded his fists against the wall until his knuckles bled, just to vent his rising frustration.</p>
<p>He scolded himself for having been so naïve, for having failed to keep his feelings in check, allowed himself to fall under Sherlock’s spell so thoroughly that he had willingly ignored the potential heartbreak this was going to end in for him. </p>
<p>He should perhaps never even have given into Sherlock’s suggestion to make their interactions sexual in the first place. If he had stayed professional and just performed his duties like Mycroft had asked him to do he would have been getting closer to reaching the goal that had been his initial reason for accepting Mycroft’s proposal, not throwing himself into even deeper despair than what he had faced when returning from the army. </p>
<p>He should have focused on his future employment at the research facility and not allowed himself to be distracted by carnal desire and Sherlock’s magnetism.</p>
<p>Breathing heavily from his jealous anger he sat down heavily on his bed, his bleeding hands hanging between his legs as he tried to get his raging thoughts to slow down. </p>
<p>Because at the end of the day, there was nothing he could do about any of this now, except perhaps end it with Sherlock to remove himself from further temptation, but that alternative did not seem particularly appealing to him either.</p>
<p>It felt almost like an addiction, and he realised that he should try to wean himself off it now as the situation was threatening to become even worse if he didn’t, and yet he couldn’t force himself to do that as he still longed to be with Sherlock for the limited amount of time that was left.</p>
<p>No, the only thing for it was to either confront Sherlock about his feelings and make him come to a decision regarding their remaining time together, or John would have to close off his emotions more effectively, try to look at the situation the way he assumed Sherlock managed to do – as a good time to be enjoyed for now, but nothing more beyond that.</p>
<p>It felt awful to consider being forced to hear Sherlock utter these words to him, that what they had shared had been nothing but a way for him to pass the time, but maybe John needed to hear that to come to a decision himself. </p>
<p>A small voice inside of him insisted that Sherlock might perhaps reciprocate John’s feelings but was too afraid to express them openly, especially considering the complicated situation regarding his upcoming marriage, Mycroft and his seemingly controlling fiancé. He had certainly always looked very happy during their time together and it had been easy for John to bask in that happiness and believe that there were some sort of feelings involved even if Sherlock had never said anything out loud. </p>
<p>Perhaps Sherlock actually felt the same way as John but was unable to express those feelings because he was worried of creating a scenario he did not have the strength to deal with. </p>
<p>Outwardly Sherlock seemed like a headstrong person but living with a brother like Mycroft who had such overbearing control over his life, and then, to make things even more complicated, the presence of a fiancé who seemed just as eager to continue controlling his life as Mycroft was, it wouldn’t be surprising if Sherlock’s self-confidence had crumbled under the weight of everything piled on top of him.</p>
<p>John tiredly drew a hand across his features and sighed.</p>
<p>There was no use speculating without hearing from Sherlock himself what he had to say on the matter, John could continue to drive himself around the bend for hours on end if he kept this up, but to no avail as the person who held all of the answers wasn’t here to enlighten him of the state of the situation.</p>
<p>So instead he decided that he needed the distraction of some actual work to clear his head and stop agonizing for now. So after a quick shower and a change of clothes he headed over to the facility and joined his co-workers for the afternoon shift.</p>
<p>Even if he performed this type of work most days anyway, it felt particularly rewarding to go and do something normal for a while, something that kept him occupied and unable to fret about the situation with Sherlock. </p>
<p>He managed to calm himself down and appear like his usual self when reunited with his colleagues who had just returned from their lunch break, and as they never asked him any questions about where he had been he never felt the pressure to ventilate his issues with anyone. They knew he was doing some additional work for Mycroft Holmes but the nature of that assignment or any further details was never explained nor asked for.</p>
<p>Normally it would be the other way around, that he longed for his two weekly visits to meet with Sherlock and the days when he had to work his regular job seemed menial and uninspiring.  But now he felt endlessly grateful that he had his old assignments to return to, that he had something to occupy his mind with as the thoughts of Sherlock and his fiancé and his own complicated situation in the middle of it all would have made him go barmy otherwise.</p>
<p>So he put in the effort and concentrated on what he had in front of him, working in silence next to the others and managed for a few blissful hours to mute the jealous demon raging inside of him.</p>
<p>An hour before the shift was ending someone tapped him on the shoulder and as he turned his head to see who it was he noticed two men standing behind the glass partition a few stories up, overlooking the site, staring at him, one of them pointing him out to the other.</p>
<p>The man pointing, he recognised as a supervisor named Mr Rudd who was seldom seen on the work floor with the others but rather kept to himself in his office. John had not dealt with him personally but had seen him during staff meetings and heard him talk about safety regulations once or twice. </p>
<p>The other man was younger, in his early thirties perhaps, tall and somewhat sturdy, chestnut-brown hair combed back from his face and the generic appearance of a businessman with a grey crisp suit and a tie. </p>
<p>He stared straight back at John and the man who had tapped him on the shoulder asked him to follow him upstairs as his presence was wanted.</p>
<p>“What for? Who’s asking?” John said, frowning.</p>
<p>“Don’t know. They just told me to fetch you.”</p>
<p>John sighed and finished what he was doing and then followed the man up the rackety stairs to the room where the two other men were waiting for him.</p>
<p>As he entered, Mr Rudd gave a quick nod and then made his excuses, leaving John alone with the other man, both of them looking at each other, John with a questioning glare, the other one assessing him in return.</p>
<p>As the door had closed behind Mr Rudd the remaining man gave John a complacent smile that did not reach his eyes, giving him a smarmy appearance that immediately put John on edge.</p>
<p>Without presenting a hand to shake or any other signs of recognition the man began to talk, his voice a strange mix of poshness with a slight Norfolk-tang to it that suggested that he originally had been a country boy who had made it into more high-class environments and had put the effort into diminishing his original accent but not quite succeeded. A poser rather than the original thing. </p>
<p>“Dr Watson, happy to finally make your acquaintance. I have been hearing a lot about you for the past couple of weeks. “</p>
<p>John gave him a confused look. What the hell was this about? Who was this guy?</p>
<p>“I’m very grateful for the time you take out of your......” the man nodded his head flippantly towards the glass partition and the work that was continuing on the floor below, “......probably <i>very very busy</i> schedule to tend to your other duties. Stark contrast indeed, being a doctor one day, working a factory floor the next.”</p>
<p>The disdain he put into the phrase “factory floor “was evident and John’s nostrils flared.</p>
<p> Was this guy taking the piss? Who was he anyway and more importantly, what did he want? And how did he know about John medical title?</p>
<p>Then it suddenly dawned on him and his eyes widened in shock at the realisation of who the man standing in front of him actually was. <br/>There was only a limited amount of people who knew him as Dr Watson and at the mention of him taking time off his normal job to tend to his other duties the answer came to him straight away.</p>
<p>This man could be none other than Sherlock’s fiancé.</p>
<p>But what was he doing <i>here</i>? And more importantly, what did he want?</p>
<p>Alarm bells immediately went off inside John’s head as he recalled his own hasty departure earlier today, the state of Sherlock’s appearance, the carpet in the dining room that was bound to be both smelly and a bit stained after their sexual activities. Even if both of them had tried to take most of the ejaculation into their mouths and swallow it, he vividly remembered cum dripping down the sides of his lips, eventually ending up smeared on the carpet. Not to mention the smell of post-sex that always lingered in a room afterwards. </p>
<p>What if he had seen John escape? Or what if he had entered the dining room? What if he <i>knew</i>....?</p>
<p>Despite these thoughts swirling inside his head, outwardly John’s face remained blank though. No use panicking before he had more facts.</p>
<p>Now that he had figured out the identity of the stranger in the room he allowed his eyes to roam the other man’s appearance more closely, looking for signs that could explain why someone like Sherlock Holmes would go ahead and marry a person like this. So far John was hardly impressed and marvelled over the fact that Sherlock might actually fall for this guy. </p>
<p>He wasn’t unpleasant looking per se, some people might even call him modestly good-looking with his tall, robust stature and you could tell that he was one of those people that had been handsome in their twenties but who’s features had hardened a bit over the years and created a coarser appearance. But most of all there was something about him that decidedly rubbed John the wrong way, even before he had known who he was standing in front of. </p>
<p>It was perhaps the way his face had a look of smugness that gave John the distinct feeling of being nothing but a piece of dirt in the other man’s eyes, and then with the added snide comment about factory work he realised that he strongly disliked this person who knew how to blow himself up to an impressible size but in reality was nothing but a poser who hid behind a fancy way of speaking and an expensive-looking suit.</p>
<p>Trying to control himself and not to get ahead of things John kept his calm though and defiantly denied the other man the pleasure of seeing him take offence from his words.</p>
<p>Instead he said, as steadily as he could:</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, but what is it that you want with me? I do indeed have a rather pressing schedule, as my employer would be able to tell you if he was here. So if you could please get to the point it would be much appreciated, Mr.....?</p>
<p>A shadow crossed the other man’s features for a second, clearly not used to being talked to in any other way but subservient, but he quickly recovered and returned to his previous smugness once more.</p>
<p>“Forgive me, I should introduce myself. My name is Victor Trevor. Engaged to be married to your patient, Sherlock Holmes. I thought it was time we finally met. As I said, I have been hearing much of your work and as I missed your appointment with Sherlock earlier today I decided to stop by and meet the man who has been in charge of caring for the most important person in my life.”</p>
<p>John met his eyes and he could tell that Victor probably had expected him to straighten himself up a bit at this piece of information, become more accommodating, but John remained stoic, so after a moment of silence Victor continued.</p>
<p>“He’s been through quite a lot of doctors along the way, never quite finding the right fit, but you seem to carry some magic talents when it comes to dealing with him, considering how long you’ve lasted. Mycroft says you saved Sherlock’s life and that it was how you initially met, so let me begin by offering my gratitude for that. It might also explain why he accepts you more readily than he did the others.”</p>
<p><i>No, its because we’re having it off in every blood room of that house straight under his brother’s stuck-up nose,</i> John thought bitterly but naturally refrained from saying.</p>
<p>“I had intended to meet with you earlier today, but when I came by the house Sherlock informed me that you had already left.”</p>
<p>“A medical exam doesn’t take that long,” Joh murmured as a way of explanation.</p>
<p>“No, from looking at your reports I’m obliged to concur, there is not much to tell when reading them.”</p>
<p>John’s eyes narrowed with doubt.</p>
<p>“Have <i>you</i> read them? I thought it was only Mycro....I mean Mr Holmes who did that?”</p>
<p>Victor gave him a one-sided knowing smile that raised John’s hackles at the sight of it .</p>
<p>“Of course, I’ve read them, Dr Watson. Sherlock is my fiancé after all, and extremely important to me. Naturally I would want to know about his health, make sure that everything is as it should be.”</p>
<p>Their eyes locked in silence again, Victor still looking confident and superior while John was beginning to wonder what this visit was actually all about. </p>
<p>He suddenly remembered the obligatory STD tests and wondered if it was perhaps further proof of Victor Trevor’s need for control that he insisted on having them taken. It seemed very much in line with his current attitude to have full knowledge of everything regarding his fiancé.</p>
<p>They had avoided performing any tests so far. Sherlock had always distracted him with other things when he had raised the question and in his opinion it seemed a bit intrusive to demand a STD test without a good reason to do so. But perhaps at least one test would soon be required if Victor’s need for knowledge was so extreme that he scoured Sherlock’s medical reports together with his future brother in law after every visit from John. </p>
<p>“To get to my point, as I wouldn’t want to keep you from.....” Victor waived his hand nonchalantly towards the glass window once more, “ ....your <i>busy</i> schedule, I came to inform you that we are having a dinner party this weekend, courtesy of a friend of mine, to celebrate the upcoming union between myself and Sherlock. Nothing too lavish, most people will shortly be at the wedding anyway, so just a small gathering for those we wish to join us for a pre-celebratory dinner and have a toast to our happiness. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show my appreciation for tending to my dearest darling these past two months by inviting you to join us in the festivities. Your time with him is soon running out and I wouldn’t want to let the opportunity to express my gratitude for your services slip through my fingers.”</p>
<p>“There is no need for gratitude, I’m being handsomely paid for my work.” John sourly remarked, because the last thing he wanted was to be treated like some charity case that would jump at the opportunity to be invited to sit  at the fancy table for one evening like some measly peasant allowed to share a meal with nobility.</p>
<p>If Victor noticed his hostility though, he ignored it completely. Instead he went on as if not having heard a word. </p>
<p>“Nonetheless, it would be appreciated if you decided to join us. I’m sure Sherlock would like it as well.”</p>
<p>In a gesture of faux camaraderie, he tilted forward towards John and lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper, winking with one eye as he added:</p>
<p> “I must confess that I also do enjoy the opportunity to show him off, you know, allow people to see what I have. What’s mine and only mine, so to speak.”</p>
<p>John stared hard at him, preventing himself at the last moment from clenching his fists. Was this a thinly veiled taunt?</p>
<p>“I’m a bit old-fashioned in that regard perhaps”, Victor droned on as he straightened himself up again, “but I do choose to look at marriage as a bond that can never be broken and I feel infinitely blessed to have Sherlock in particular bound to me for the rest of our lives. I could not have found a more perfect specimen of a man than Sherlock Holmes, the perfect combination of unique looks and staggering intelligence and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep him by my side forever. At  all cost.”</p>
<p>A flame of jealous anger burned intensely inside John now but despite the feeling that he was about to choke on his pent-up rage, he did his very best to remain calm and collected. </p>
<p>Was Victor hammering in the fact that Sherlock was his and his alone on purpose just to cause John to react? Was he warning him off, telling him to keep his distance? Or was Victor simply bragging like an idiot about his ownership like a child with a new shiny bike in front of his fellow classmates. Without knowing the man better, it was difficult to tell.</p>
<p>John had seen the cards and the messages that Victor  had sent to Sherlock so he knew that he had a very flowery way of expressing himself towards his fiancé but now that John was faced with it in person he got the distinct feeling that there was a warning hidden somewhere behind those smitten words, a warning that told him that Sherlock was Victor’s and Victor’s alone and anyone nursing the idea of getting in the way would be making a huge mistake.</p>
<p>“Why are you telling me this?” he finally said, allowing the tone of suspicion taint his words.</p>
<p>“For no other reason than to make sure that the situation is perfectly clear for all parties concerned. I know that Sherlock might present a temptation to those who see him, which is understandable, as he is an exceptionally beautiful man after all. Jealousy though, is unfortunately a personality trait of mine, so when I see a potential threat that needs to be put straight I take it upon myself to do so.”</p>
<p>John narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p>“What exactly is it that you are suggesting, Mr Trevor?” he said through gritted teeth, no longer bothering to hide his discomfort over the nature of Victor’s words.</p>
<p> “Take no personal offence, Dr Watson, I’m merely explaining my point of view. If you have nothing to hide there is no reason to become upset. Simply take my words as spoken by a man watchful of his possession. I’m not suggesting anything as long as there is no need for me to do so.”</p>
<p>“Of course there isn’t any need,” John growled, anger simmering just beneath the surface. He felt the sudden urge to wipe Victor’s smarmy smile off his face with a well-directed punch but clenched his fists to prevent himself from doing anything rash.</p>
<p>Victor seemed completely oblivious to the growing tension emanating from the man in front of him and continued talking in that airy way that made it seem like he was discussing something completely inconsequential and far beyond John’s grasp of knowledge.</p>
<p>“Well then, no harm done, and my invitation naturally stands, if you have not taken too much offence from a jealous fiancé’s cautionary words that is.”</p>
<p>Indecision made John uncertain if accepting this invitation was such a good idea. Victor seemed too paranoid for his liking and there was a risk that he would manage to wind John up sufficiently for him to lash out with his fists if provoked thoroughly enough. There was also the very unappealing prospect of having to sit through a dinner party that celebrated Sherlock’s upcoming wedding and he could scarcely think of anything he would hate more than seeing Victor make gooey-eyes at his future husband all night. The very thought made him seethe with actual hatred.<br/>.<br/>But when he considered the fact that he was not going to meet Sherlock until next week and he would be left with his tortuous thoughts about their continuing relationship for several days, the opportunity to at least see Sherlock, was too tempting to turn down.</p>
<p>So he nodded his head once and said:</p>
<p>“No offence taken, I’ll gladly accept your invitation, Mr Trevor”</p>
<p>Victor looked very pleased.</p>
<p>“Excellent. I can send a car to collect you Saturday night at eight that will take you to your destination.”</p>
<p>John could feel himself rile against the presumption that he couldn’t care for himself and his own means of transportation, but on the other hand he had no car of his own and he had no idea where the dinner party was being held, so he swallowed his pride and simply nodded.</p>
<p>“I’ll be seeing you then, Dr Watson. Oh, and by the way.....”</p>
<p>Victor turned and walked over to a locker standing in a darkened corner of the room. He opened the door to it and reached inside for something.</p>
<p>“I believe you left this behind today. I thought it important that it was returned to you before you began wondering about its whereabouts.”</p>
<p>He pulled out a large item and then presented it to John.</p>
<p>His medical bag.</p>
<p>“A member of the Holmes household staff gave it to me, they had found it forgotten in a corner while preparing the dining room for lunch. Strange how it ended up in there of all places.”</p>
<p>“We had a cup of coffee after the medical exam, I must have forgotten it when I left,” John quickly offered.</p>
<p>Victor tilted his head slightly, his eyes boring into John’s like a reptilian about to lash out, the previous cordiality no longer visible. </p>
<p>“Yes, your thoughts must have been very preoccupied for you to walk away from this, the very reason for your visits. What could have been the cause for such a distraction?”</p>
<p>John didn’t answer and Victor’s smile faded for a second, something hard crossing his features. The silence stretched and for a second it seemed as if John would have no other choice but to come up with a lie, naturally not offering the true reason for his forgetfulness.</p>
<p>But then suddenly Victor’s face turned amiable once more and he put the medical bag down on the floor between them for John to pick up himself.</p>
<p>“Now, I won’t keep you any longer. It was a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Dr Watson, and I’m looking forward to your presence at the dinner party on Saturday. I’m sure Sherlock will be pleased to hear that you’re coming as well.”</p>
<p>And with those words he turned around and left the room, as if dismissing a servant by turning his back on him and John clenched his jaws, wishing that he could have thought of some sort of  parting reply that would have given Victor Trevor a better impression of him. </p>
<p>He hadn’t bowed down like he suspected a lot of people did to someone like Victor who felt himself entitled to that sort of behaviour, but he had also allowed Victor’s words to get to him and it annoyed him that it had worked. </p>
<p>And that damn medical bag.....</p>
<p>It was the surest sign of how he was beginning to slip and forget to be careful. </p>
<p>Angrily he grabbed the bag off the floor and looked at it accusingly.</p>
<p> Did Victor suspect that something was going on between Sherlock and him or was it pure coincidence that the bag had ended up in Victor’s hands? It was difficult to tell but John assumed that by Saturday he would have more than one answer to the many question that kept him occupied at the moment. </p>
<p>With a sigh he walked back downstairs to finish his shift.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. A quarter past midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>And hand reached out and pressed the reply button on the surprisingly old-fashioned intercom.</p>
<p>“I have no recollection of tonight being agreed upon,” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. </p>
<p>“Circumstances have changed. He has been acting differently as of late, more restless than usual, and I need to make sure that he isn’t up to any of his old tricks again.”</p>
<p>“That’s what the doctor is to make sure doesn’t happen.”</p>
<p>“And what a remarkable job he seems to be doing. No one’s lasted this long before. The question is if how good his medical skills really are or if his talents lie elsewhere.”</p>
<p>A silence stretched out and the finger on the intercom button lingered for a second with hesitancy, as if refusing entrance was still optional. </p>
<p>“Fine. But he isn’t aware that you’re coming.”</p>
<p>“No matter. It will be a nice little surprise. He likes surprises, doesn’t he? Everyone usually does.”</p>
<p>“He isn’t like everyone else.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m well aware. Which is the very reason why I’m here.”</p>
<p>There was a sharp click when the entrance button was pushed and then the finger pressing the intercom withdrew as well. </p>
<p>A quick look at the time on his mobile phone told him that it was a quarter past midnight. </p>
<p>Tired fingers pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds, while trying to collect himself. Exactly four seconds later he removed them and leaned back in his chair, facing away from his desk, composed and neutral once more. </p>
<p>No use wasting energy he could hardly afford on something he could not interfere with. Now there was nothing left for him to do but wait. </p>
<p>He took a sip of the lukewarm cup of tea he had made himself earlier and heard the familiar sound of someone opening the door behind his back. </p>
<p>He swivelled around to face his guest.</p>
<p>“Ready?” he said and slowly rose from his chair.</p>
<p>“Very much so,” the shadow by the door replied.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Welcome to my house, Dr Watson</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Saturday arrived, John was as ready as he was ever going to be when facing Sherlock and his fiancé officially together for the first time.</p>
<p>He had no idea what sort of dinner party this was going to be beyond that it was to celebrate the upcoming wedding of a couple soon to be married and assumingly that it was going to be a fancy event, but just how fancy or what the dictated dress code for the evening was, went beyond his knowledge. </p>
<p>That he assumed it to be posh was solely based on what he knew of Sherlock and Mycroft, because with their public school way of speaking, the large house, the fact that they had servants and the way they dressed in expensive clothes told him that he dealt with people that belonged to a higher class than the average. He did not really know anything about Victor Trevor but assumed that Mycroft would never allow his little brother to marry some random pauper so most likely he was well off too. </p>
<p>As John did not own a good suit nor could afford to buy one, he decided to put his old army dress uniform on. It was a piece of clothing he felt proud to wear and that he knew made him look distinguished even if it would probably raise a few eyebrows, but as he had nothing else to choose from, the choice was simple. </p>
<p>Shortly before eight a black car with tinted windows showed up outside the facility gates to take him all the way to London. He still had no idea who the host of the party was or where the event was being held, but as he seated himself in the backseat he noticed that there was a partition raised between him and the driver so he decided that there was no use asking any questions in advance, he would just have to sit back and see where the journey would take him. </p>
<p>As he sat on the leather seat in his newly- ironed uniform, trying to feel at ease with wearing it again after such a long time, keeping himself occupied with watching the houses and streets pass by, glaring city lights and people crowding the sidewalks, broadcasting all the familiarities of a large city outside his car window, he thought of Sherlock and wondered how he was feeling tonight, if he was happy, what he looked like. </p>
<p>And if he knew that John was coming. </p>
<p>Sherlock had always been adamant to keep the two worlds of him and John, and him and Victor separate but tonight those two worlds were going to intersect with each other. </p>
<p>Was he worried that John would cause a scene? Or that Victor would be able to tell something was going on? </p>
<p>Did he perhaps think that John wouldn’t fit into this different type of environment were people paid others to spy on each other, because that was in a sense what he had come to realise that Mycroft wanted from him with his medical reports, a world where people controlled one another beyond reason, were in charge of Government-owned facilities where you looked at the staff like replaceable little cogs in a larger machinery that no one but a few select were privy enough to be knowledgeable of. </p>
<p>A world where that same idea of replaceability might apply in their private lives as well and where a person might sleep with another one for weeks on end even if they were about to marry someone else.</p>
<p>He realised that he had grown a tad bitter during these past couple of days but it had been the only way for him to get over the horrible realisation that he had probably been used as some sort of passing entertainment but that he had never truly been considered as a person for Sherlock to ever choose if given a choice. </p>
<p>There had in fact never even been a question of making a choice, it was always going to end like this and John had been too naïve to have fully grasped that fact despite Sherlock telling him this at the beginning of their sexual relationship.</p>
<p>But despite his bitterness he also realised that he still longed to see Sherlock again. That he, if he could, would give anything for Sherlock to be his instead of marrying that smug bastard Victor Trevor who seemed so different from Sherlock that John could hardly believe they had fallen in love and decided to get married in the first place. Sure, Victor was clearly smitten, that fact was obvious, but what about Sherlock, did he really feel the same way?</p>
<p>John felt terribly jealous over what they had and it was eating him up inside during the hours of the night when he tried to get some sleep but instead plagued himself by picturing the other two locked in passionate embrace, kissing each other, grinding their bodies against one another, while he lay abandoned and alone in some cot, agonising over what he couldn’t have.</p>
<p>But no use harping on about something that couldn’t be changed, so instead he told himself to make the best of an evening he did not know what to expect from, have a few drinks and eat some good food, look at the rich people they way you went to the zoo to look at exotic animals and just treat this like a social experiment he had accepted to be a part of and now had to suffer the consequences of, depending on what Victor Trevor had in store to shove in his face.</p>
<p>The car pulled up in front of a white Regency style house and John got out and looked up at the building towering in front of him. It had several large windows where shadowy figures passed by, an enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the room most visible from the street and the whole exterior projected luxury and wealth with every detail, from the polished façade to the gilded number plate on the door. No name though, no hint of who the house belonged to.</p>
<p>Other guests were also arriving at the same time as he, and a couple was already ringing the doorbell to gain entrance.</p>
<p>John decided to join them and when a servant opened up he stepped inside, following the couple, after telling his name to the man at the door who gave his uniform a curios look but beyond that was nothing but cordial in his welcome. At least it seemed Victor had not decided to make a fool of him by leaving him standing outside without being allowed entrance.</p>
<p>The interior was opulent and very much unlike Mycroft Holmes discreet house where it was difficult to remember one room from the next on account of the lack of memorable details. </p>
<p>This place was quite the opposite with so much to look at that it almost made it hard to know where to rest your eyes first.</p>
<p>There were enormous chandeliers hanging from every ceiling, some rooms had furniture carved out of ebony and onyx that gave a quite sinister feeling with their dark colouring, while other rooms had furniture that were gold-plated or made out of glass which increased the look of lavishness and reminded John of a French 17th century court with it’s over the top décor. </p>
<p>In one of the larger rooms a strange rotating device consisting of four men playing instruments within a glass casing caught his eye and in another one he noticed a whole wall covered with a painting what depicted the very disturbing image of a naked man being eaten by horses while two other men in red and white robes looked on with condemning faces and John couldn’t help but wonder, with every passing room he made it through, what sort of person this home could possibly belong to. There was a fine line between luxurious and straight out bizarre with every step he took. </p>
<p>The other guests were scattered a little all over the house which consisted of three stories but as John didn’t know any of them and had not been greeted by anyone he paced from room to room, hoping to catch sight of Sherlock, or at least Mycroft so he had one familiar person to connect with.</p>
<p>There were servants passing by with trays of champagne and he acquired himself a glass while he entered a room where yet another disturbing painting took focus, this one depicting a young naked man chained to a bed with a shadowy-looking faceless figure dressed in dark robes looming over him, his hand reaching out in an ominous way towards the exposed throat. </p>
<p>John looked at it while he took a sip of his drink, wondering what sort of message this painting was trying to convey when a soft smooth voice suddenly startled him from his thoughts.</p>
<p>“There’s a rather tantalising feel to this painting, wouldn’t you agree?”</p>
<p>John turned his head and saw a tall, thin man with a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles and a penetrating stare stand next to him, his eyes shifting from John back to the painting again.</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t know. Seems pretty creepy to me,” John mumbled. “I’m no expert on art but I think it might be a bit too dark for my taste.”</p>
<p>A small smile spread across the other man’s features, but instead of improving a rather gaunt face it just made him look even more disconcerting with that grin, showing a small glimmer of teeth between very thin lips.</p>
<p>“Ah, but there can be something fascinating to be gained from darkness as well, I think,” he said and tilted his head to look at the painting more closely as if reading something from it that only he was able to see. “Life is after all often tainted by a touch of darkness rather than just consisting of eternal sunshine and the scent of roses.”</p>
<p>“That’s a bleak way to put it, but yeah, I suppose you’re right, life can be a struggle sometimes,” John agreed as he kept looking at the other man, not sure what to make of him yet. </p>
<p>“You if anyone should know this, who has seen the ravages of war up close. And yet you remained where you were and conducted your life right in the middle of it, every day. The fact that you decided to wear that uniform tonight tells me that you look back on that time with some sort of proudness attached to your experience, if I was to take a guess I would say that you found it exciting and that you thrived from that feeling to get by. And there you go, even something as dark as war has something to be gained from. That’s what this painting means to me – within the darkness lies the promise of something exciting and beautiful to be had.”</p>
<p>John wasn’t sure what to make of that sort of logic and turned his head to look at the young man’s face in the painting. </p>
<p>It looked frightened and it made him uncomfortable. In his eyes the shadowy figure represented some unknown threat and he had difficulty seeing any beauty in it beyond perhaps the depiction of the naked man’s body that was well-defined and slender. But the horror in the young man’s features made it impossible for John to view it as anything beyond uneasy to watch.</p>
<p>“I guess it’s a matter of taste,” he finally concluded and the man next to him nodded and turned his full attention on him.</p>
<p>“Indeed. Welcome to my house, Dr Watson. My name is Charles Magnussen, the host for the evening. I hope you’re looking forward to celebrate the union of the happy couple with us tonight?”</p>
<p>John’s eyes narrowed for a second because why did this keep happening, that people always knew who he was without him having any idea of who they were in return? It was starting to become annoying. </p>
<p>But then he decided to relax and tell himself to stop being so suspicious. Assumingly Victor must have informed the host that he had invited John as a last-minute addition and as he was probably the only unknown guest here it wasn’t too difficult to guess his identity.</p>
<p>“Thank you for including me to the evening’s celebration. You have a very.....<i>special</i>...... home, Mr Magnussen, I’ve never seen anything like it.”</p>
<p>There was something almost reptilian about the way Magnussen looked at him, like he stared straight into John’s most inner core with those dead beady eyes, but his voice remained smooth as he spoke and he had that vague disturbing smile playing on his lips the whole time.</p>
<p>“This is only my little London get away, nothing too elaborate. I have several other homes that far surpasses what I’ve managed to do with this place. But it has its charm, I suppose, and some of the items, like this painting, are very dear to me.  It was commissioned after my own specific instructions in honour of an intimate acquaintance of mine.”</p>
<p><i>Jeez,</i> John thought but did not say. </p>
<p>This man seemed to be a bit too eccentric for his taste and he wondered how such a person would get along with someone like Mycroft Holmes with his penchant for flying under the radar and not bring attention to himself unless he had to. On the other hand, two cold fishes sharing a pond might actually find something they had in common, however unlikely it might first appear.</p>
<p>“I believe it’s time to get seated,” Magnussen said and began to walk towards the door. “Please follow me and I’ll show you to the dining room.”</p>
<p>The dining room was as luxurious as the other rooms with a huge white table in the middle, heavy velvet burgundy drapes around the windows, two intricate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the table set with large crystal vases overflowing with red sponge-like flowers while the plates were looking like they were made from actual gold. A black deer made out of porcelain stood in a corner to overlook the guests seated at the table and John was once again struck by how the interior design constantly toed the line of being too gaudy and over the top. Money clearly didn’t always mean that a person could pay for good taste.  </p>
<p>The first person John noticed as they entered the room was Sherlock sitting next to Victor to the right of the empty seat at the end of the table that assumingly was reserved for the host. </p>
<p>Opposite them Mycroft was seated and then the rest of the guests were scattered around the table, all of them unknown to John. He looked for an empty seat to claim but Magnussen’s hand touched his arm and directed him towards the seat next to Mycroft, opposite Sherlock and Victor.</p>
<p>“We reserved a seat for you here with your friends, Dr Watson,” Magnussen said and John did as he was told and sat down.</p>
<p> From the look on Sherlock’s face it was clear that he had not been informed of John’s presence tonight and not for the first time did John wonder what Victor’s intention about inviting him to the dinner party had truly been about.</p>
<p>Sherlock looked very handsome in a black slim-fit suit and a white shirt underneath, naturally with the top button undone to expose his pale slender neck rising from the collar, and his dark curls seemed more tamed than they usually were, a vision in black contrasting beautifully against the paleness of his skin. </p>
<p>The most noticeable was his face, a sight to behold even under normal circumstances but tonight he looked spectacular with his eyes huge and dark, the cheekbones sharp and prominent, slightly flushed and John couldn’t help but stare at him from across the table, thirstily drinking in every detail of his lover’s appearance. </p>
<p>Sherlock stared back for a second but did then turn his eyes away to switch his attention onto the host without verbally acknowledging John’s presence. He looked a bit uneasy and John wondered if he had made a mistake by coming here.</p>
<p>Charles Magnussen had meanwhile made his way over to the head of the table and now inspected the foursome seated on each side of him, his eyes running from Mycroft to John, then across the table to Sherlock and finally Victor, and John suddenly got the distinct feeling that everyone else around that table were only there as extras, a part of the tableau presented but of no interest or value to anyone. </p>
<p>As he turned to look at them more closely he noticed that they all looked surprisingly generic, as if having taken advice from Mycroft on how to not make too much of an impression, the most remarkable person around the table was without a doubt Sherlock and  the rest made it look like they were trying to blend in with the background. </p>
<p>Sure, they had nice suits and dresses, the occasional piece of jewellery, but every single one of them would be forgotten as soon as you stopped looking at them. For a second a thought struck him that they perhaps were indeed hired extras but then he waived that thought away again, because what would be the purpose of such a ploy?</p>
<p>He wondered if Mycroft had known of his invitation in advance but if he had, he did not allow it to show on his features. Instead he remained stony-faced and simply nodded in John’s direction, offering a bland phrase of greeting before his attention was directed towards the empty plate in front of him. </p>
<p>He looked a bit bored to be honest which was yet another detail John felt was slightly odd. This was in honour of his brother and his future brother in law, surely some expression of interest wouldn’t be too much to ask for? </p>
<p>But like the rest of the people gathered around the table, the mood was far from celebratory, the only two who looked pleased were the host and then Victor Trevor who beamed from ear to ear with a smug grin that made John turn his eyes away in annoyance at the sight of it.</p>
<p>As the small talk around the table silenced a bit, Magnussen rose from his chair and turned towards his guests and addressed them with that smooth voice he had with the slight Scandinavian accent, looking out across the room through his steel-rimmed spectacles like he was giving each and everyone a close inspection.</p>
<p>“Now that we’re all gathered and the newest addition to our dinner party has arrived, I suggest that we get started and bring in the food. I know that Victor has a little speech prepared that he is very eager to share with us soon enough but let us all fill up on food and drink first before we allow him to take the stage. Let me also suggest that we raise our glasses in a toast to the couple of the evening.” </p>
<p>He turned his head to look to his right, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and his eyes glimmering in the soft light from the chandeliers.</p>
<p>“To the beautiful Sherlock Holmes who looks particularly delicious tonight, what could possibly be the cause for that becoming flush on your cheeks? Is it perhaps the knowledge of the amount of people around this table that would want a piece of your delectable assets or is it perhaps the presence of that very special someone that sets your heart racing?” </p>
<p>He turned his head towards Mycroft who looked as if he had swallowed a lemon and his smile increased even further. </p>
<p>“Don’t look so scandalized, Mycroft. Your must have known that your precious brother was bound to be snatched from your protective clutches one day. Or is it the mention of him having <i> feelings</i> that unsettles you?” </p>
<p>Mycroft gave Magnussen a cold stare before his eyes narrowed as he searched his brother’s face as if looking for something behind his motionless mask. Victor on the other hand positively beamed with satisfaction and reached for Sherlock’s hand, kissing the tip of his fingers lovingly in a way that forced John to turn his eyes away from the sight to prevent himself to follow his impulse and jam his gilded fork forcefully into the back of Victor’s hand.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Magnussen continued with his toast.</p>
<p>“And of course, a toast to Victor as well, who so patiently has waited for the moment when he would finally be able to tether his own white whale that has eluded him for so long. The persistence of this man is quite remarkable. So let us raise our glasses to the hunter finally catching his prey and for the union of these two who have at last been brough together and hopefully will remain so for the rest of their days. Even if a few people around this table probably secretly wishes that the wedding day will never come.”</p>
<p>A slight murmur was heard from the guests and John frowned in confusion, because what was that supposed to mean? Sherlock himself looked motionless and just stared straight ahead, avoiding every curious glance thrown his way, while Victor didn’t seem to be paying much attention, occupied as he was by looking at his groom to be. </p>
<p>When the murmur had silenced again glasses were raised, and Magnussen finished the whole speech by raising his own glass as well while declaring:</p>
<p>“To Sherlock and Victor! May your marriage prove to be as exciting as your courtship has been for us all to witness.”</p>
<p>John downed the contents of his glass in one go, earning him a disapproving glance from Mycroft, but beyond that nothing more happened. </p>
<p>Food was brought in by waiters while the guests were now starting to mingle with those sitting closest to them, but as John had no desire to interact with Mycroft and as Sherlock was pointedly ignoring his searching gaze, his focus became on what was in front of him on the plate instead.</p>
<p>“I must say I’m surprised by your presence here tonight, Dr Watson,” a low tone of voice came from his left side and John sighed inwardly before he replied.</p>
<p>“Mr Trevor invited me the other day. Came by the facility to give me back my medical bag that I had accidentally misplaced and he took the opportunity to extend an invitation.”</p>
<p>“How very.....unlike him.” Mycroft’s eyebrows were raised in surprise. “How come your medical bag was left behind? The whole purpose of your visits is connected to that bag, seems rather strange to have left it behind. Or were you perhaps distracted somehow?”</p>
<p>There was now a poignant tone to Mycroft’s voice that John had no desire to acknowledge. Instead he decided to ignore it. There was no proof of anything inappropriate going on between him and Sherlock and he was tired of everyone’s insinuations.</p>
<p>“No mystery about it, I just accidentally left it behind. No distractions beyond the usual shenanigans your brother puts me through simply by being himself.”</p>
<p>He could feel Mycroft’s penetrating stare and reached for his glass to ask for a refill when his eyes caught Magnussen looking at him as well.</p>
<p><i>Well, let them stare</i>, he thought irritably, <i>the only one I want looking at me tonight isn’t willing to do so and the rest of them I couldn’t care less about.</i> </p>
<p>Studiously ignoring both Magnussen and Mycroft he brough the attention of a passing waiter who refilled his glass which he once again downed in one go and he could hear Mycroft sigh next to him as he asked for a third fill-up.</p>
<p>The room was beginning to get a nice buzz to it after the added intake of alcohol in his bloodstream, the room appearing much more pleasant in the soft light and across from him Sherlock’s large sombre eyes simmered like dark pools in that pale face with the flushed cheeks appearing even more glowing every time he looked at him. </p>
<p>What was that all about anyway? Was he coming down with something or was it simply a trick of the light? Or had Magnussen been right about him blushing on account of that special someone in the room that managed to put some colour on his cheeks?   The question was who that special someone was of course. Him or Victor?</p>
<p>John snorted to himself and shook his head as he impaled another piece of roasted lamb on his fork. Sherlock Holmes being in love with anyone?</p>
<p>R-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s!</p>
<p>The dinner trudged on with him treating himself to some food and a lot to drink while he tuned out the soft chatter from the other guests as he had no interest in what they were talking about anyway. </p>
<p>The peace was unfortunately disturbed when Victor suddenly clinked his glass and rose from his seat to address the group gathered at the table while John inwardly sighed and braced himself for whatever was coming. Victor looked almost emotional as he opened his mouth to speak so this was bound to get teeth-rottingly sweet and nauseating. </p>
<p><i>If he starts reciting poetry I’m taking that whole bottle of Champagne with me and then I’m out of here.</i>John sourly thought to himself.</p>
<p>“In less than two months the day I have been waiting for is upon us at last and a person I always hoped would one day be mine will be so in the eyes of the law as well as in the eyes of the church, cementing the final proof of him belonging to me and me alone wholeheartedly.”</p>
<p>Victor looked down at Sherlock who sat stiffly by his side and then he reached his hand out to squeeze the younger man’s shoulder comfortingly.</p>
<p>“I know a few of you thought our host’s words about Sherlock being my white whale was a peculiar way of describing our situation, but the truth of the matter is that he wasn’t too far off the truth with those words. I’ve known Sherlock for many years now, ever since I met him at University when he was still just a teenager and my dog unfortunately decided to take a bite out of his ankle, creating a very bad start to a friendship that would soon blossom into something even better. The truth of the matter is that I’ve loved him ever since that day, dog bites, tetanys shots and visits to the hospital withstanding, but the timing was not in our favour back then and as I’m sure those who know him can attest, Sherlock Holmes isn’t easily tied down, so circumstances unfortunately separated us for a while. But as Mr Magnussen so accurately pointed out, I’m a man with a lot of patience and tenacity when it comes to getting what I want, so over time and with some considerable effort I managed to win him back and make him accept my proposal.”</p>
<p>Victor’s hand had travelled all the way from the shoulder over to the face while he talked and now a finger was put under Sherlock’s chin to tilt his face upwards so their eyes could meet, and John felt a stab of discomfort pierce him in the gut at the sight of it. </p>
<p>Victor’s words seemed surprisingly genuine and for a weird moment he didn’t seem so much like an enemy but more like John himself, a man simply in love. Unfortunately Victor, unlike John, suffered from the need to control the object of his affection to assure himself that this love would not slip through his fingers. </p>
<p>A part of John could relate to some extent, if Sherlock had been his, he would have done everything in his power to never let that love down, but there was something different, almost pathological to Victor’s neediness and in the end this was what made John resent Victor to the extent that he did, Victor cared only for his own feelings and sense of ownership, what Sherlock felt seemed less important.</p>
<p>With growing bitterness, John heard Victor’s words continue in the background as he drank heavily from his glass and looked at Sherlock’s motionless features across the table.  </p>
<p>“You are my most important person in my life and there is nothing or no one to stand in my way of finally putting my ring on your finger, share my name as well as my home and belong to me in every sense of the word. You have made me a very happy man, Sherlock and I want to raise my glass to salute you in front of these people, our generous host and your brother of course and let them share our happiness tonight. The next time we will be gathered like this it will be to hear us speak our vows in front a priest. So, a toast to you, my dearest darling, and for many more pleasurable days and nights in our future!”</p>
<p>At the sound of people saluting his toast, their glasses raised, Victor’s eyes suddenly turned to look at John, and as if someone had turned off a switch, the joy in his eyes fizzled out and was replaced by a cold hard stare that spoke of true venom and jealousy, easily discernible to John who felt exactly the same way in return. It was quite uncomfortable to witness though and John didn’t know how to respond to such a blatant display of hostility so he simply stared back, wondering if he was the only one who thought it was all a bit odd.</p>
<p>Then, as if having conveyed his message with a satisfying result, Victor suddenly tore his eyes away from John, pulled Sherlock up to his feet and pressed a firm, wet kiss on his mouth, a kiss not exactly reciprocated but not rebuked either</p>
<p>If anything Sherlock seemed numb and unable to act and those dark smouldering eyes in his angular face burned like furnaces while his cheeks glowed even more than earlier and John was forcefully reminded once more of why he actually hated Victor Trevor with all his heart. </p>
<p>This person was not simply a man in love with a boyfriend from his past who now, for some unfathomable reason, had agreed to marry him, but he was also morbidly obsessed and every perceived threat, imaginary or real, was met with genuine hostility.  </p>
<p>With rising horror John wondered how Sherlock could stand to be with such a man and he turned his eyes away from Victor’s possessive kiss to look at his patient come lover, still seated like a statue in his chair.</p>
<p> John watched him intently and actually thought it looked as if Sherlock was physically ill, running a fever or something worse. But Victor either did not notice or did not care, the kiss intensified, and he squeezed his hand possessively at the nape of Sherlock’s neck while John felt his fists tightening under the table at the sight of it.</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” he mumbled and rose from his chair, not caring about Magnussen inquisitive stare, about Victor who fell even deeper into the kiss or about Mycroft who just sat there allowing another man to have his hands all over his little brother like a spectacle being performed for the enjoyment of Victor only. </p>
<p>John simply couldn’t stomach it any longer and headed out of the dining room and straight for the stairs in the search for a bathroom. He was in dire need to throw up. </p>
<p>His head was dizzy on account of the wine and champagne he had consumed without eating particularly much to ease the impact of alcohol. He knew it had been a bad mistake but frankly he didn’t care anymore and as he rushed up the stairs he managed to snatch yet another glass from a startled waiter who passed him, downing it at once before he dropped the empty glass carelessly on the thick carpet.</p>
<p>He tried several doors in his search for the bathroom but did not managed to find it, so instead he walked out on a balcony overlooking a small garden at the back of the house and without a second though he urinated over the railing while he felt the cool evening air hit him in the face with a sobering impact. The nausea did not fade away as easily though and he dry-heaved over the railing for a few minutes to get rid of the unpleasantness unfurling inside his abdomen.</p>
<p>Realistically he knew that he had no evidence that anyone besides himself and Sherlock knew what they had been doing for the past two months and yet it felt like everyone around that table knew something he didn’t. The look in Victor’s eyes before he claimed Sherlock’s lips, Magnussen’s speech about Sherlock looking flustered on account of someone seated at the table, even Mycroft asking about him about being distracted enough to forget his medical bag had set alarm bells ringing and he realised that he should just get the bloody hell out of here and remove himself from the board game altogether. This torture wasn’t worth it.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t have come,” a familiar voice was heard behind his back and he twisted around, facing Sherlock standing in the opening to the balcony, tall and elegant, but decidedly displeased.</p>
<p>John immediately lashed out.</p>
<p>“Why the hell not? In fact I’m having a spectacular time! Watching your fiancé being all kinds of possessive for everyone to see, pressing kisses to your mouth as if he wanted to eat your bloody face!”</p>
<p>Once he got started the words just kept spewing out of his mouth, almost out of his own control and most likely due to the alcohol, but at the same time it felt liberating to vent what he had been keeping bottled up during the whole evening.</p>
<p>“And that Magnussen character, what’s up with him? This place looks like a crossover between count Dracula's castle and a burlesque house and the man himself seems to have a bizarre penchant for interior design that makes you want to run away screaming. Does he keep kittens in glass jars somewhere and calls it art perhaps? Or does he have an armchair made out of endangered animals? I bet if we look closely enough in all of the rooms, we might actually find a chair like that. He gives me the bloody creeps!  How can you stand it all?”</p>
<p>“Who says that I am?” Sherlock calmly replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.</p>
<p>“Well you allowed the man to throw you a dinner party in honour of your upcoming wedding and you also didn’t object to Victor slobbering all over you in front of everyone!”</p>
<p>Sherlock sighed.</p>
<p>“You’re jealous,” he then stated coolly.</p>
<p>“Of course I am! What did you expect?” John blurted out, not bothering with keeping his voice down. He was drunk, angry and indeed jealous, what else could possibly rattle his cage any further? But despite his outburst Sherlock didn’t move a muscle, only looked at him evenly.</p>
<p>“I expected you to keep to our agreement. I told you it wasn’t going to last.”</p>
<p>“Well, too fuckin bad, I foolishly thought there was something more between us beside the sex.” John was beginning to get worked up by now and the other man’s cool stance did nothing to improve his raging temper. </p>
<p>Sherlock sighed again and then cast a quick glance over his shoulder before he lowered his voice into a whisper.</p>
<p>“I can’t tell you everything, certainly not tonight while we’re here. These walls have ears as well as eyes so just keep your mouth shut, hold your distance and hear me out because I will only say this once -  since you seem insistent to put yourself into a situation I would have preferred to keep you out of, the next time we meet, if you decide that you still want to meet that is, I’ll try to explain the situation a little better and then you will hopefully see why it’s essential that you stay as far away from it all as you possibly can. For now, you go act your part as my perfectly friendly and platonic doctor and stop looking like you want to stab a knife through Victor’s heart every time he gives me a kiss or touches me. He is entitled after all to do those things, he is the one I’m marrying.” </p>
<p>But John was not willing to calm down.</p>
<p>“You looked positively sick when he kissed you! You can’t expect me to believe that you enjoyed that spectacle in there?”</p>
<p>Sherlock shrugged.</p>
<p>“If you can’t stomach it you need to leave.”</p>
<p>“And leave you alone with him? Ha! Not a chance!</p>
<p>“For the last time, you need to behave and act like you are nothing but my doctor. If you don’t, you’ll risk losing both your job and the chance of ever seeing me again.”</p>
<p>And with those words Sherlock turned and left.</p>
<p>John took a deep breath of fresh air to clear his head, his nostrils flaring and his knuckles gripping tightly around the balcony baluster on account of his pent-up frustration. He was only a bit tipsy now and he could probably stave it off with a bit of food. But the question was if he would be able to stomach anymore of what was going on downstairs. </p>
<p>Even if Sherlock had agreed to explain something to him, he had no idea what that something was or if he really wanted to hear it. Because Sherlock had also made it clear that he was still going to marry Victor Trevor and for John to think anything else had been nothing but foolish. </p>
<p>So what would be the point of staying here and force himself to look at the nauseating sight of Victor pawing all over Sherlock while Magnussen lurked at everyone in the background, giving Mycroft a run for his money as the creepiest man in the room. </p>
<p>John felt pretty sure that if he had to endure another minute of Victor sticking it to him with his blatant display of affection John would knock him a cold one straight in the eye soon enough and where would that land him? Most likely out of a job as well as out of a home. And as Sherlock had pointed out, with no chance of ever seeing him again.</p>
<p>No, better to just call it a night and get out of here.</p>
<p>As he reached the entrance, he stopped for a second to contemplate how he was supposed to get a hold of a car to take him back, when Magnussen’s soft-spoken voice addressed him from the shadows of the hallway. John actually jolted in surprise as he had thought he was alone and would be able to sneak out unnoticed. </p>
<p>“Leaving so soon, Dr Watson? We were all so eager to make your acquaintance this evening. We have been hearing so much of how you care for Sherlock, it would have been interesting to hear how you managed to tame him. I’m sure Victor could have benefitted from taking a note or two from your book, Sherlock is a particularly feisty companion to subdue. In fact, I’ve never heard of anyone having the same success as you before.”</p>
<p>John shook his head slowly, looking at Magnussen, trying to suss out what the man was actually saying. </p>
<p>“There is no magic to it, I just stop by to take his pulse twice a week, maybe he just stopped trying to annoy his brother...” he began but was immediately interrupted.</p>
<p>“You’re being too modest. That’s not a quality that anyone will thank you for in the end. Sherlock Holmes thrives on getting under his brother’s skin, that’s hardly something that will ever stop as long as they’re both breathing. No, I think it must be down to something else, something that apparently only you can provide. “</p>
<p>“Why don’t you just ask him then?” John sighed, tired of defending himself.</p>
<p>“Oh, I was planning to, as I’m sure Victor will do as well. But I might need to wait for a day or two, Sherlock looked a little unwell tonight, don’t you agree? Those eyes were like flaming orbs and the cheeks very flushed. Maybe something for you to check up on, doctor? We wouldn’t want him to succumb to something bad so close to the wedding.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” John mumbled, already intent on making his exit.</p>
<p>“Very well then, if you say so. You should know after all, tending to his health as observantly as you do. Good night, Dr Watson. It was enlightening to make your acquaintance.”</p>
<p>And with that Magnussen left and John stumbled out through the door, no longer caring about taking Victor’s car to drive him home. He would get a cab if necessary and pay the staggering amount required, as long as he could get the hell out of here. </p>
<p>Angrily he slammed the door shut in his wake and began to walk towards the busier streets in search for a vacant taxi, leaving Magnussen, Victor, Mycroft and Sherlock to enjoy the rest of the evening without his company.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The scales fall off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Getting himself home had been a troublesome affair involving taking the tube out to the suburbs to cut the costs of a taxi taking him all the way back to the barracks. But sitting on the tube on a Saturday night dressed in a formal army dress uniform with a bunch of teenagers out on a night of fun, the regular drunkards as well as the odd crazy person who was just out looking for trouble got him in more than one brawl along the way, one of them ending with him throwing a punch followed by the unfortunate sound of nose cartilage breaking and blood spurting all over his clothes. </p>
<p>This had earned him the additional problem of dealing with the screaming man’s mates who had rushed to his defence and tried to return the blow but greatly missed their target on account of their state of intoxication. </p>
<p>He had barely managed to avoid the involvement of a security guard paroling close by and luckily his next train had arrived so he could leave the brawling group behind, still screaming profanities at him will trying to tend to the man with the broken nose. </p>
<p>Eventually, after what felt like a never-ending journey through hell, with smell of urine, vomit and deep-frying oil from leftover chips attacking his nostrils as he sat opposite a scantily clad couple making out, leaving nothing to the imagination, he had managed to get a cab to take him the remaining route home and once arrived he had stumbled to bed, clothes still on and slept within minutes.</p>
<p>A few hours later he was abruptly woken by someone shaking him ruthlessly, his name being called and as he pried his eyes open to look at what was causing such a disturbance he saw the same woman who had taken him to Mycroft on his very first visit to the Holmes household, standing next to his bed, shaking him by the arm.</p>
<p>He immediately sat straight up and stared at her in bewilderment, still half-asleep but yet aware that if she was here then something must have happened.</p>
<p>“You need to come with me, Dr Watson. Your services are needed. Hurry,” she said, a tone of urgency in her voice even if she looked nothing out of the ordinary otherwise. Even her face looked neutral, her clothes impeccable, as if she had never gone to bed. Maybe foregoing sleep was something that was expected when working for someone like Mycroft.</p>
<p>He noticed her raised eyebrows as he scrambled out of bed with his crumpled uniform still on and the stains of blood covering the front that made him look more than usually dishevelled for a person being abruptly woken in the early morning hours. But whatever she thought she didn’t say anything.</p>
<p>“What’s happened?” he said as they hurried out of the barrack to the car waiting for them outside, his medical bag in hand and as he climbed into the car she told him what she knew.</p>
<p>“We’re not sure yet. The brothers arrived home about two hours ago from Mr Magnussen’s dinner party and junior said something about feeling a bit strange, dizzy and nauseated, so his brother tried putting him to bed but he kept refusing to be alone in his bedroom, just kept twisting and turning before he suddenly bolted for his room upstairs. Mr Holmes decided to allow him some space and went to prepare himself for bed when there was suddenly a loud crash and as he rushed up the stairs and into his brother’s room he was lying unconsciously on the floor.”</p>
<p>John felt his heart rate increase, worry instantly grabbing him when hearing this. And with worry, anger quickly followed, because this situation sounded serious enough to warrant more aid than what his meagre medical bag could possibly provide. </p>
<p>“Has someone phoned for an ambulance? What are his vitals? Is he breathing?”</p>
<p>The woman was like a wall though, impenetrable and not accommodating one bit to his rising fear. Instead she actually looked at him as if she thought he was being a bit hysterical.</p>
<p>“Calm down, Dr Watson. You’ll be filled in as soon as we reach the house. He was breathing when I left and even if the situation is looking severe, Mr Holmes preferred it if you, as his brother’s personal physician, was the one to come and tend to the situation. Calling for an ambulance would be more like a last resort. None of them are particularly fond of hospitals.”</p>
<p>Having said that she then turned her attention to her phone and John remembered how easily she was able to dismiss a person by focusing on something else, so instead of wasting his breath on someone who wouldn’t give him any proper answers anyway, he turned his head to look out the window for the remaining time of the ride, fretting over the scenario he was going to find once they reached their destination.</p>
<p>As soon as they stopped in front of the house he got out of the car, not bothering to wait for her to catch up before he threw the front door open and rushed inside.</p>
<p>“They’re in the living room,” he could hear her call out behind his back and he quickly made his way over there, familiar with the rooms by now as he had fucked in all of them except for one. Not even when collapsing did Sherlock apparently opt to do so in his own bedroom.</p>
<p>The door to the living room was half-way open and even before John had entered he caught a glimpse of the tableau presented in there, with Sherlock sprawled over the sofa, still dressed in his shirt and trousers from the dinner party but the jacket had been discarded somewhere, eyes closed and his face deadly pale.</p>
<p>Leaning over him, the unexpected sight of Mycroft in a taupe-coloured pyjama, a heavy dressing gown of the same colour and slippers on his feet, looming over his younger brother, his hands firmly holding one of Sherlock’s limp ones while he looked the very epitome of worry, caught John by surprise. </p>
<p>Considering that he had almost never seen the older Holmes brother display anything resembling human feelings, it was disconcerting to see now even if the situation certainly explained it, and with the added detail of what he wore, it felt like John had stumbled straight into something he should not be allowed to see.</p>
<p>His eyes quickly swivelled to Sherlock and worry tugged at his heartstrings at the sight, making him rush forward, almost knocking Mycroft over in his attempt to reach the unconscious form on the sofa.</p>
<p>While he felt for a pulse and checked Sherlock’s breathing ability, he addressed the older brother sternly:</p>
<p>“What’s happened? Tell me the full status as far as you know it and then why the bloody hell you didn’t phone for an ambulance!”</p>
<p>Mycroft looked taken a back for a second by the unexpected harshness in John’s approach but then managed to produce at least the beginning of a sentence.</p>
<p>“Because what he’s suffering from....”</p>
<p>He then paused and succeeded to look even more broken than before.</p>
<p>“What? Spit it out!” John hissed and the fact that he dared to address his boss in such a manner spoke of how worried he truly was. When anxious, his adrenaline level always rose, and his tone of speech turned agitated. If Mycroft felt offended by John’s military way of barking orders, he didn’t allow it to show though. Instead he continued to look uncharacteristically miserable.</p>
<p>“Assess him and then tell me what you think, doctor,” was all he said.</p>
<p>John had felt a somewhat slow pulse and Sherlock’s breathing was decidedly shallow, his skin glistening with sweat, his skin tone deadly white and then there was the fact that he was close to unconscious, but beyond that.....</p>
<p>John brough out a small torch and pried one of the eyes open, immediately struck by the size of the pupil, smaller than normal even considering that light was being aimed straight at it. </p>
<p>Miotic pupils. </p>
<p>He frowned for a second but then he suddenly recalled those old track marks on the inside of Sherlock’s arms as well as Mycroft’s mention of drugs in Sherlock’s past and realisation hit him like the blow of a sledgehammer.</p>
<p>Even if something at the back of his head screamed that it was impossible, that Sherlock never would do something as stupid as that, the pupils as well as the other symptoms told a different story. </p>
<p>Normally narcotics caused the pupils to widen but depending on the substance, shrunken ones were also a tell-tale sign of drug abuse and yet the very thought of Sherlock taking anything illicit felt impossible to comprehend. </p>
<p>“What’s he taken?” he said, trying to sound even, while his mind still tried to grasp what he was actually witnessing. </p>
<p>Because never, not even once, had he felt any indication that Sherlock was still doing drugs. And yet, with the proof he had in front of him he suddenly realised that there had been signs all along that he had neglected to see. </p>
<p>Even more damning was the realisation that he had allowed it to happen by omitting to do the physical exams properly, by allowing himself to get distracted by a master manipulator who had played him like a fiddle by presenting the most alluring option available to keep his focus elsewhere. </p>
<p>Mycroft’s mention of the weight loss, the way Sherlock had managed to divert John from performing any examinations over a very long period of time, the way he had seemed so energetically restless even after having had sex, his body always fidgety afterwards while John himself had felt completely spent. </p>
<p>And tonight, the flushed cheeks, the large dark eyes and his almost brittle appearance. It had been staring John straight in the face for a long time and yet he had failed to see, too preoccupied with the sexual favours Sherlock had showered over him, not to mention how distracted he had been by his own jealousy, his developing feelings for the younger man and the adrenalin rush of doing something forbidden. He had readily trusted what Sherlock had told him to put in the reports without even once check if it was accurate. And now they were both paying the prize for his negligence.</p>
<p>He heard Mycroft talk in the background, and he did his best to mute the voice inside of him who continued to accuse him of his carelessness and try to concentrate on what was happening in the room instead. There would be plenty of time for regrets later, whatever the outcome of this situation would be.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure what he has chosen to take now, he usually favoured cocaine in the past but that was years ago and I don’t know.....I never thought.....,” Mycroft lost his words again as if realising that he too had missed something fundamentally important, a feeling probably not that common for a man like him, and they both stared down at the limp figure on the couch, looking dead to world. “I believe it might have been morphine this time, I found some scribblings up in his room that indicated that he could have been tampering with making his own compound with the chemistry set, the word morphine was mentioned several times.”</p>
<p>“But I....” John cut himself off immediately because what he had been about to say could never be expressed in front of Mycroft. Instead he backtracked and tried again. “The track marks on his arms are old.” </p>
<p>He knew that there were no new ones on any part of Sherlock’s anatomy as he had seen every centimetre of that gorgeous body up close and would have noticed if there had been any fresh punctuation wounds. </p>
<p>“Although it never was his favourite way of administering drugs, he occasionally snorted back at university. It caused him terrible nosebleeds, so he stopped doing it, but who knows, maybe he’s less concerned about ruining his septum these days,” Mycroft dryly commented, standing behind John’s back, peering over his shoulder at his wayward little brother, hands crossed over his chest in a protective stance. </p>
<p>He looked oddly vulnerable in his sleepwear and John wondered how this must have all gone down before he had been called over to the house. He had never seen the brothers interact in any other way besides sniping at each other, but this looked almost like caring on some level, Mycroft was noticeably shaken and he was not his normal collected self. </p>
<p>John also recalled the bloodied tissue he had found in Sherlock’s room and yet another pang of regret hit him as he was reminded of how easily he had discarded it as insignificant, buying into Sherlock’s explanation. Well, technically he had told the truth that particular time, he had indeed suffered a nosebleed, he had just omitted to tell the reason for it.</p>
<p>Still reeling from all this information and his own feelings of failure, John could do nothing but angrily lash out.</p>
<p>“Who the hell gets the idea to <i>snort</i> morphine?”</p>
<p>“A chemist who knows how to experiment with different ways of administering drugs to leave as little physical evidence as possible. And besides, this is all a guessing game, I have no idea if it’s morphine, heroin, cocaine or whatever other drug he might have decided to take!”</p>
<p>“Which is why you should have called for an ambulance!”</p>
<p>Mycroft’s face turned cold, his stance suddenly straightening considerably in his dressing gown, no longer any traces of vulnerability left.</p>
<p>“If I can’t rely on your discretion and help in this matter, I have no further use for you, Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>John gave him a long hard look but realised that Mycroft most likely meant what he said, it was a matter of solving this situation without causing any further problems and as much as John hated to be bullied into doing anything, he realised that he wasn’t willing to leave either.</p>
<p>“I need Narcan to stave off the effect of an overdose. If we work from the very loosely based theory that it is morphine it could work,” he said instead. “We have no way of testing if it actually is morphine that he has taken but since you refuse to take him to a hospital that’s the best option we have right now. I don’t know how we are going to get our hands on any Narcan at this hour though.”</p>
<p>“That can be arranged,” Mycroft calmly informed him.</p>
<p>John whipped his head to stare at him.</p>
<p>“<i>How</i>? I am certainly not in the habit of carrying it around with me in my medical bag.”</p>
<p>Mycroft put his phone back into the pocket of his dressing gown.</p>
<p>“It will be here in five minutes.”</p>
<p>“I'm not sure I want know how you pulled that off....,” John muttered, earning himself a dry look from Mycroft.</p>
<p>“I have a whole research facility at my disposal, I can get anything I need from there.”</p>
<p>“Well that doesn’t sound like abuse of power at all....“</p>
<p>Mycroft coldly pursed his lips.</p>
<p>“Would you rather have me flapping my arm around in hysterics, unable to do anything of use?”</p>
<p><i>Point taken</i>, John thought but did not say.  </p>
<p>He was having enough bad feelings as it was without adding the sour taste of admitting Mycroft was right for bending the rules simply because he was powerful enough to do so. John hated people with that sort of authority but had to reluctantly agree that in this case it was a blessing.</p>
<p>He went down on his knees on the floor and took Sherlock’s hand in his, while he felt his bradycardic heartbeat with his stethoscope. The symptoms did indeed suggest some sort of opioid overdose even if he felt uncomfortable theorising with such little proof, he only hoped that the Narcan would prove sufficient and constrain the effect of the presumed morphine. </p>
<p>There was also the case of how much to administer, how much morphine Sherlock might have taken, the added intake of alcohol that he had consumed earlier and so forth. Too many unknown variables for his liking but what else could he do with the limited options he had been given.</p>
<p>As they waited for the Narcan to arrive he asked Mycroft to see if there might be a bowl or something for Sherlock to use when and if he finally was hit with the effect of the antidote and would feel the urgent need to vomit. </p>
<p>Mycroft did not bat an eyelid at this request, merely fetched a vase from a nearby table and disposed of the flowers before handing it to John.</p>
<p>“Can you please tell me what happened after I left Magnussen’s house? When do you assume that he began taking the morphine?” John asked, reluctant to turn to Mycroft for information but as Sherlock was hardly in a position to answer any questions, what option did he have?</p>
<p>“My theory is that he indulged on something throughout the evening, he was uncharacteristically subdued and solemn during the whole dinner party.”</p>
<p>John contemplated that as he looked down on Sherlock’s comatose form. </p>
<p>“As I recall he didn’t showcase the same signs of opioid abuse that he is now, so it might very well have been some other substance. His pupils seemed more dilated and he had that particular glow, almost like a flush of the cheeks that kept increasing during the evening. My guess is that he took something else first and then switched to morphine when he came home. What happened after I had left? Did he act strange in any way? “</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not really. Like I said, he was very quiet, he scarcely ate but that’s hardly uncommon, and beyond that he wasn’t acting any stranger than normal and he certainly didn’t indicate that something was off it until we were in the car on our way home, and then he merely complained about feeling a bit dizzy. But after that it increased, he felt nauseated and I tried putting him to bed but he promptly refused, almost turning hysterical. “</p>
<p>“Yes, he seems to be experiencing some aversion to his bedroom,” John mumbled before he realised what he had said. </p>
<p>Mycroft gave him a sharp look.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>John felt himself caught for a second, unable to come up with a plausible explanation for knowing that little tidbit without revealing that he knew Sherlock far more intimately  than Mycroft had any idea of.</p>
<p>“Only that he....well, nothing really....it was just something he said once...,” he finally stammered and quickly turned focus back to the first topic. “Please continue. What happened after that?”</p>
<p>After a second's pause where his eyes closely looked at John, clearly sensing that something was off but unable to narrow it down to a conclusion, Mycroft continued.</p>
<p>“He became erratic and difficult; we had an argument and he stormed up to his room and locked the door. As he is prone to throwing antics, I decided to leave him to his own devices, thinking that he didn’t seem that affected by dizziness and nausea as he had earlier claimed. Instead I went to my own bedroom and prepared myself for going to bed but no more than 20 minutes went by before a loud crash was heard. I immediately rushed upstairs and there he was, splayed out unconscious on the floor, parts of his chemistry set in pieces around him. He was lucky that nothing was currently cooking in one of the vials or that the Bunsen burner wasn’t turned on. I carried him downstairs and laid him down on the sofa, told my assistant to go get you and here we are, two concerned parties and a drug addict suffering an overdose.”</p>
<p>Inwardly John wondered where Mycroft kept his assistant stashed away to be so readily whipped out whenever he needed her, but instead he asked a different, more significant question.</p>
<p>“What was the argument about?”</p>
<p>Mycroft narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p>“Why does that matter?”</p>
<p>“I just figured that, depending on what the argument was all about, he might perhaps have been upset afterwards and miscalculated the dose on account of it. As you pointed out earlier, he is a chemist, how likely is it that he would misjudge the amount to take under normal circumstances?”</p>
<p>Mycroft gave him a slightly surprised look.</p>
<p>“You’re actually more quick-witted than I might have given you credit for, Dr Watson. Or have you been taking lessons from my brother in what he calls “the science of deduction?”</p>
<p>“Considering the fact that I’m here to help you save your brother it would be greatly appreciated if you could tone down the snark just a little bit....”</p>
<p>“Apologies,” Mycroft mumbled and looked away, his eyes on Sherlock once more. He drew a resigned hand across his features and then sat down heavily on the sofa next to his brother’s unconscious form. He reached out his hand to stroke an errant curl from Sherlock’s damp forehead while John continued to keep watch over his breathing as well as his pulse.</p>
<p>When the silence stretched on and no further explanation was coming John decided to ask the obvious question himself instead.</p>
<p>“Was the argument perhaps about his upcoming marriage? And speaking of which, where is Victor Trevor right now? I would have thought he would be here, twisting his hands in worry, providing his undying support, considering how Sherlock is “the most important person in his life....”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but roll his eyes for emphasis, once he had begun allowing jealousy to seep into his words it was surprisingly difficult to stop it seemed. But whatever Mycroft had picked up on regarding any underscoring tones in John’s words he didn’t address them, instead he just crisply replied: </p>
<p>“What we argued about is inconsequential to you. It might have aggravated my brother but for you to be told about the exact nature of our conversation doesn’t change the situation we have in front of us, Dr Watson. And Victor isn't here because he hasn't been informed about any of this, there is no need to worry him right now. If the situation changes and it becomes necessary to tell him, I will.”</p>
<p>“Afraid he’s going to back out of the wedding?” John sneered and Mycroft’s eyes turned icy.</p>
<p>“Why such aggression? Jealousy does not become you, Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>“I’m not....” John began but was cut off by Mycroft raising his hand to prevent him from saying anything more.</p>
<p> “Please save us both from the embarrassment of having to witness you denying the obvious. I have been suspecting for some time that there might have developed some......<i>feelings</i> on your part towards my brother, but let me make this clear, a fantasy is all fine and well to a certain extent, but when it starts clouding your judgement it’s wise to know when to take a step back and accept reality for what it is. He is going to be married in less than two months and there is nothing you can do to alter that fact.”</p>
<p>“But can’t you see that he is miserable?” John objected. </p>
<p>Mycroft’s cold stare intensified even further and he opened his mouth to reply when there was a sharp knock on the door and the female assistant came in with the Narcan, interrupting the tension between the two men, leaving whatever Mycroft had been about to say unspoken.</p>
<p>Annoyed by Mycroft’s refusal to look at the situation from his brother’s point of view, John turned his back on him, stubbornly ignoring the other two in the room as he got to work by slowly injecting the Narcan intravenously into Sherlock’s arm, looking for signs that it would have some sort of effect on him. </p>
<p>Behind his back he heard Mycroft tell his assistant to leave and he could sense how the older brother slowly approached from behind and came into his line of vision to observe him as he worked, but he continued to pretend that he was alone in the room with his patient, silently praying for some improvement of his state.  </p>
<p>And sure enough a loud inhale was soon heard, followed by a cascade of vomiting, not only into the outstretched vase but also all over Mycroft’s pristine slippers, a string of curses hissed out from the older brother’s mouth on account of it, causing John’s lips to twitch in amusement despite the severity of the situation.</p>
<p>That little accident meant that Mycroft had to excuse himself and go remove the soiled footwear and John was finally alone with Sherlock.</p>
<p>After a silent moment where he just seemed to take in the whole situation, Sherlock then wiped his lips with his shirt sleeve and looked straight into John’s eyes, not an ounce of shame, regret or embarrassment visible in his features, which considering how he had just thrown up quite spectacularly on his brother in front of John, was rather impressive.  </p>
<p>But John was far from impressed, instead anger was starting to replace the initial worry he had felt when entering the room and he had a whole string of questions he would now demand some answers to. The time for beating around the bush was well and truly over.</p>
<p>In that particular way where he more or less vivisected a person with his scrutinizing gaze, Sherlock looked at John and then sighed and closed his eyes as if the sight was too much to deal with right now.</p>
<p>“You’re disappointed.....,” he muttered and scrunched his lips into what looked like a pout and John stared at him incredulously. </p>
<p>Was this really happening? </p>
<p>Did Sherlock really think that he had the right to act the victim here after all the lies and manipulations he had pulled off? After tonight’s revelations of his deplorable drug abuse?</p>
<p>“Good guess,” John angrily hissed through gritted teeth when he finally recovered from the shock of hearing Sherlock being so flippant in a situation like this.</p>
<p>“I never guess. I <i>deduce</i>. Your body is positively trembling with pent-up anger right now, so it wasn’t a particularly difficult conclusion.”</p>
<p>“Of course I’m bloody upset, Sherlock! I’ve just found out that the man I’ve been sleeping with for the past couple of months is a damn junkie, and not only that, he has been lying and manipulating me for weeks, doing his very best not to expose his secret. According to Mycroft you’re running a drug lab in your room and tonight you were close to dying from an overdose, and yet you have the gall to sound surprised that I’m disappointed in you??! Disappointment doesn’t even begin to describe it!”</p>
<p>“Oh, please, I wasn’t dying, I merely miscalculated the dose a little bit, nothing to make a fuss about,” Sherlock weakly tried to wave his hand in a blasé gesture but didn’t quite manage to pull off the nonchalance he wanted to convey, his movements still a bit wobbly.</p>
<p>John just stared at him in disbelief.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sorry? We were mistaken then? You were not going to die tonight and we all just overreacted, is that it?” he shouted, his face reddening with rising anger.</p>
<p>“Well, you’re certainly overreacting right now, you’re quite loud when you’re angry, did you know that?”</p>
<p>Oh, the impulse to just slap this shameless brat hard across the face was almost overwhelming, but no, he had just recovered from “not dying” mere minutes ago, even John, despite his anger, had some compassion left in him and braced himself from lashing out physically.</p>
<p>Instead he waived a pointed finger in front of the other man’s face as he let out the angry tirade he had felt building up inside of him ever since Sherlock had opened his mouth and spoken his first words of insolence.</p>
<p>“You know, Sherlock, you’ve been playing me like that violin of yours for weeks on end but the longer the tune the more winded up I’ve become and I tell you, if you don’t start to provide me with some good explanation for all of this, I’m going to snap.”</p>
<p>Sherlock opened his eyes at half-mast to look at him and there was a slight twitch of his lips.</p>
<p>“That could be interesting.....”</p>
<p>“No, I’ll promise you that you won’t like it at all. I’ve been lenient with you so far, too blind, too smitten to see the truth, but trust me when I say that you don’t want to experience me losing my temper.”</p>
<p>Sherlock rolled his eyes and let out a histrionic sigh, as if these words were nothing but empty threats and John felt his blood boil at the sight of it. The nerve to act flippant in a situation like this! He felt how he was seconds away from actually interrupting in a fit of rage.</p>
<p>But however observant Sherlock always claimed himself to be, he either didn’t see John’s darkening eyes or he simply didn’t care, because he continued in the same mocking tone. </p>
<p>“Or what, you’re going to pound me really hard into that carpet? Sorry to disappoint, doctor, but you’ve already done that. Several times as I recall. Took the cleaning lady a really good scrubbing to get the stains out too.”</p>
<p>Smack!</p>
<p>John’s hand lashed out against that pale, still somewhat damp cheek and Sherlock’s head flew back from the impact but beyond that his features didn’t change, he didn’t look surprised, he merely stared at John, his eyes completely blank.</p>
<p>Then his mouth turned into a sneer as he said:</p>
<p>“That’s it? This is what the strong and almighty army doctor John Watson is like at his most threatening? I’m not quite sure I’m quivering in my boots yet.....”</p>
<p>Another hard smack across the other cheek and this time the nose somehow got involved with the blow and blood began to trickle down from one of the nostrils. Where his hand had landed on the first cheek, a swelling was already developing, beginning to create a magnificent bruise.</p>
<p>The sight of the stark red against the deadly pallor of Sherlock’s skin somehow got through to John’s angered haze and he stepped back to prevent himself from going any further. </p>
<p>He was hurt and angry and all Sherlock was interested in doing was to taunt him even further for some unfathomable reason. But a line had to be drawn at physical violence, he could not allow his anger to get the better of him.</p>
<p>“Why are you being such an arsehole?” he hissed instead, his fists clenched at his sides.</p>
<p>Sherlock immediately snapped back.</p>
<p>“Because that’s what I <b>am</b>, you’ve just been too busy fucking me against the furniture to notice. Not much talking involved when there is a cock shoved down one’s throat, so maybe you’re excused for not noticing before, but believe me, I’ve been called worse than arsehole in my life jus for being myself, you were just too horny to notice.”</p>
<p>John could feel himself sucking in air as his lungs suddenly seemed too constricted to function, the uncomfortable feeling of something cold and hard unfurling inside his chest. Because as Sherlock hurled these words at him a realisation began to form inside his head and if the answer proved to be correct, he didn’t know what to do with himself. And yet, it needed to be asked.</p>
<p>“Was it all a game to you? From the very beginning? From that first kiss you gave me? Did you do it because you knew that you could manipulate me into overlooking your drug abuse, to not see what you were doing to yourself behind my back? Your brother and fiancé demanded that you were assigned a doctor to check up on you and this was the easiest way to go along with their demands and still get away with your secret, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>Sherlock looked at him, eyes hard now, more similar to Mycroft than John had ever seen him before, and he felt the ice in his chest seep out into his system, veins running cold as the harshness of realisation hit him.</p>
<p>When Sherlock answered John already knew what he was going to say.</p>
<p>“Of course it was all a ruse, doctor. If you really think about it, who would fall that easily for a person they don’t even know without some sort of motive lurking in the background? I must confess that I was quite surprised by how easily persuaded you were to go along with what I was offering; I had expected to be having to work much harder. But you just yielded like putty in my hands, like a dog gagging for whatever bone I was willing to throw you. It was quite remarkable when you think about it. And it also confirmed my suspicions that you were so terribly lonely, so desperate for affection, that you simply refused to see the cracks in the picture you had created for yourself. My methods wouldn’t have worked on just anybody, but you proved to be the perfect candidate.”</p>
<p>John stared at him for a second, really looked at him, as if for the very first time, all his pent-up anger, hurt, jealousy, anguish and shock that had rushed through his system for the past 24 hours finally hitting him like a tidal wave as he saw the young man in front of him, dishevelled and sweaty, blood running down his nose, the still miotic pupils, the smell of puke surrounding him and then the golden band on his finger, the engagement ring that glimmered in the soft light of the room like a taunting reminder of the state of things. </p>
<p>And for the first time John wondered why the bloody hell he put up with any of this, why he had ever believed that Sherlock Holmes was someone who would reciprocate the love John felt for him, that they ever had a chance of becoming a couple when in reality John knew nothing about the man sprawled out in front of him on the sofa. He had no bloody idea who the person with the bleeding nose, the drugs problem, the lies and the razor-sharp tongue actually was. </p>
<p>Mycroft had tried to warn him in the beginning to be careful, but he had allowed himself to be mesmerized by Sherlock’s magnetic beauty and intelligence, had manage to ignore all the alarm bells going off as their relationship had transgressed and now he suddenly stood in front of a stranger that he had no idea what to make of, who also had the gall to throw everything John had cherished straight back in his face with the words that informed him that it had all been nothing but a cruel game on his part and that John had been foolish to have fallen  for it.</p>
<p>There had been nothing but heartache and pain to gain from it, all the lies, the trickery and manipulation, the humiliation of having to see Victor stake his claim last night and now the drugs as well. And Sherlock acting like an entitled bastard that had been stringing him along the whole time and didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed when finally being caught out with his lies. </p>
<p>No. No more of this, John was done with it all.</p>
<p>There was nothing left to be gained from this disaster. </p>
<p>He didn’t care if Sherlock loved Victor or not, if this had only been a game the entire time to stave off some childish boredom, he was not going to take another second of it. </p>
<p>The answers he had wanted earlier were suddenly no longer important because it no longer mattered, these people could have each other as far as he was concerned and good riddance to them!</p>
<p>So without another word he turned on his heal and he left.</p>
<p>He walked straight out of the house, passed the car on the driveway and just kept going all the way to the gates where he was let out and then he turned left towards the barracks. </p>
<p>He was now just another doctor that had walked out on Sherlock Holmes and he wondered if any of the other ones had ever experienced the same thing as he did now or if that painful privilege had been reserved for him alone. </p>
<p>In the end it no longer mattered. He was done with this and he was never ever going to return.</p>
<p>Resolutely he turned his steps towards his home as the morning sun was beginning to rise from behind the trees and another day was about to start. A new day with a clean slate and the promise of less troubled times ahead. </p>
<p>Straightening his back as he walked, he made the wow to stay the hell away from Sherlock Holmes from now on and not look back on that decision with any regrets. This had all been for the best anyway and in the sobering light of the morning he realised that he had been deluding himself for far too long. </p>
<p>Time to wake up from his foolish dreams and join the world of reality.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. No one sleeps while he's awake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His phone went off as he discarded his soiled slippers into a waste basket for the servants to dispose of later. They had cost him a good 600 £ and had been a favourite pair for many years but were now beyond redemption. </p>
<p>He wondered if he should somehow force Sherlock to see the impact of his thoughtless actions more firmly. As children their father had been quite keen on using a cane when wishing to make his point come across effectively, but Mycroft had never been particularly keen on straining himself with physical exertion. Besides, his own canes were too expensive to use on such a menial task as to reprimand his brother who would no doubt fail to learn his lesson anyway. </p>
<p>The worst scenario would be if Sherlock decided to retaliate with one of those martial art moves he had spent his late teens cultivating when the boxing and the fencing hadn’t been enough to appease his endless energy levels.  Having a brother who knew how to fight in as many ways as he knew how to be annoying was a curse Mycroft often wished he could have been spared. It was not the Holmes family way to be so…<i>athletic.</i></p>
<p>A swift glance at the number on his phone made him supress a groan and close his eyes for a brief second. </p>
<p>The headache that had begun making itself known over an hour ago had now reached the pounding levels that would need to be mended with painkillers if he wanted to catch at least a little sleep before it was time to prepare for a new day and the heap of trouble he knew Sherlock’s actions tonight had set in motion. </p>
<p>But he also knew that the caller would not accept a rejection, so after a deep breath to brace himself, he pressed the flashing green symbol on the screen and put the phone on speaker.</p>
<p>“It’s quite late for a phone call, what could you possibly have on your mind that couldn’t be expressed when we saw each other mere hours ago, with ample opportunity to communicate face-to-face?” he sighed as he seated himself on his bed, his body longing to just crawl under the covers and succumb to some well-needed sleep.</p>
<p>“Is that the proper way to greet someone? You sound very stressed.....is something the matter?”</p>
<p>A moment of silence followed while Mycroft waited for the other man to get to the point and be done with it. He was in no mood to explain his lack of manners or why he thought his greeting had actually been quite acceptable considering circumstances.</p>
<p>“Fine, I won’t press you for an explanation,” the voice on the other end concluded. “I merely called to make sure that you got home properly. And to express my concerns about dear Sherlock’s lack of spirit this evening. Is he coming down with something?”</p>
<p>Mycroft only realised that his jaws were terribly clenched when the pain made itself known and he tried to relax, not rushing into the other man’s obvious verbal traps.</p>
<p>“If something was ailing my brother, Dr Watson would be tending to him this very minute, so rest assure that everything is as it should be.”</p>
<p>“Ah, the ever-present Dr Watson,,,,,, of course he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to offer his talents if needed.”</p>
<p>A sound from downstairs caught Mycroft’s attention for a brief second, the sound of hasty steps and then a door slamming shut with force. </p>
<p>He closed his eyes and supressed yet another sigh. Despite having expected it, he couldn’t help but feel a flash of disappointment before he turned his attention back to the caller.</p>
<p>“Dr Watson’s talents are no more remarkable than what any other doctor could offer. For as long as Sherlock’s accepts his services it is all good and well, and if the day comes when those services are no longer in demand, we will simply have to find someone new.”</p>
<p>“Have you reason to believe such a day will come?”</p>
<p><i>Sooner than you might think</i>, Mycroft thought but didn’t say.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Tread lightly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunday came and went and so did Monday without a word from anyone about Sherlock and the state of his situation or the fact that John had walked out of the house in the middle of the night, without an explanation.</p>
<p> As Sunday was mostly spent in bed, under the pretence of sleeping off his slight hangover and to prevent himself from overanalysing recent events and then Monday meant work as usual, there wasn’t much time to mope around and nurse his bruised feelings. </p>
<p>He was still angry and hurt of course, whenever his mind touched on the subject of Sherlock, he felt his blood begin to boil and he had no idea how he was going to rid himself of that feeling without allowing it all sink in properly. He hated the idea of dwelling on something that had caused him so much pain, but he also realised that he would not be able to move on if he continued to shy away from thinking about it. The problem was that beyond the hurt and the anger, there was also embarrassment.</p>
<p>It was humiliating to consider how positively smitten he had been, how utterly blind, and whenever that realisation hit him, he wanted to squirm from embarrassment, pound his head against the wall and scream in frustration. </p>
<p>Unfortunately he couldn’t blame it all on Sherlock’s harsh tongue, there had been some truths to what his former lover had said, John had indeed been too lonely, longing too much for companionship and he had fallen head over heals for this gorgeous bloke who was willing to offer him both his body as well as his companionship, even if it had only been to a limited extent. </p>
<p>Just the feel of Sherlock's smooth naked skin under John’s deft hands had driven him insane with want, he had allowed himself to become vulnerable and easily fooled simply because he so badly wanted the love he felt for Sherlock to be reciprocated.  </p>
<p>So he had allowed himself to forget his duties, he had neglected to take the tests or performed the examinations he had been hired to do and which most likely would have exposed Sherlock’s drug habit earlier, and it had happened simply because his focus had been on the naked body in front of him instead of everything else happening around him. </p>
<p>He had never been this duped in his entire life and it smarted to realise how easily it had been done. Take a lonely desperate man craving for affection, put stars in his eyes by giving him exactly what he wants and off he went, no wonder Sherlock was so surprised by how easily it had all gone down. </p>
<p>And now, with a swift reveal of what reality really looked like and some particularly cruel words from Sherlock, it had all crumbled down into small, unsalvageable pieces scattered before his very eyes.</p>
<p>So, naturally it hurt, and it tormented him to think about any of it, but luckily work, as it usually did, offered him some well-needed reprieve and his focus could be on what he was doing at the moment, nothing else.</p>
<p>Then Tuesday came and Tuesdays were usually when he had taken the car over to the Holmes household to tend to his patient, but that was naturally not going to happen now. </p>
<p>For a second he had contemplated just showing up, performing his duties and then leave, because at the end of the day his own career was still at stake and if Sherlock had used him for his own agenda, why shouldn’t he return the favour?</p>
<p> But when he thought more closely about it, he realised that working for Mycroft Holmes wasn’t such a tempting option anymore. Instead he decided that he should start looking for a new job as soon as possible and then leave this place and all the bad things that came with it. He wanted nothing more to do with either Holmes brother so the sooner he was able to leave, the better.</p>
<p>And truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to face Sherlock again. </p>
<p>A part of him still loved him for some unfathomable reason and those feelings didn’t just fade despite Sherlock’s horrible behaviour. They had shared some really intimate not to mention passionate moments, the best John had ever experienced and it wasn’t easy to forget those when evening came and it was time to go to bed and he was left lying awake in his bed, staring out into the darkness with his head swarming with memories.  </p>
<p>But going back to the Holmes house was never going to be an option.</p>
<p>So instead, as Tuesday came, he went for his usual morning swim after a sleepless night of twisting and turning, in an effort to clear his head before heading to work with the others at eight. But at around nine he was approached by one of his colleagues with the message that a car was waiting for him outside. </p>
<p>His jaws immediately clenched, and the unfurling of discomfort made itself known straight away, like a cold snake slithering inside his abdomen, the need to gag overwhelming him for a second.</p>
<p>John felt pretty sure Sherlock had not sent for the car. </p>
<p>Even before their epic showdown Sherlock did not have the consideration of arranging for practicalities. In his world things like cars, cups of tea and clean underwear just magically happened without any involvement from him, so the fact that a car had always picked John up in the mornings was probably irrelevant to him. </p>
<p>John even suspected that it was Mycroft or possibly his assistant who arranged for new clothes and booked appointments to the dentist or the barber, as Sherlock would never bother with menial tasks like that.</p>
<p> A flashback from a few weeks ago when they had lounged outside after a particularly strenuous sexual activity, John, still damp from sweating profusely during the act, had been reclining in a chair, half-naked in the garden and Sherlock, talking about some article he had read about in the latest issue of Guns &amp; Ammo, had reached his hand out towards a table next to him and then stopped midsentence to turn his head to look at the table, exclaiming his surprise at the lack of ginger nuts next to his cup of tea. </p>
<p>Apparently there had been ginger nuts accompanying his tea the previous four times and the lack of them now was apparently perplexing to him. </p>
<p>John had dryly informed him that whoever provided him with that treat perhaps hadn’t been informed that he expected ginger nuts with every cup from now on, whereupon Sherlock replied:” What person would that be? Tea and biscuits just wait for me whenever I’m ready to have them, I’ve never once seen anyone being in charge of arranging for it”, which was Sherlock’s way of saying that if things were not particularly important or interesting, he didn’t pay them any attention. He wanted ginger nuts with his cup of tea but wasn’t particularly interested in how they got there.</p>
<p>That had been one of those small details John had found endearingly quirky when it happened but now hated with infinite passion, cementing his impression of Sherlock as a spoilt selfish bastard.</p>
<p> The car showing up now was therefor most likely Mycroft’s doing, and in the end, it didn’t matter, John wasn’t going to take the offered ride back to the house anyway.</p>
<p>“You can inform the driver that I won’t be joining him today,” he had tried telling his colleague as a way of avoiding any further discomfort, but to his dismay, this had only been met by a shake of the head.</p>
<p>“Go tell him yourself,” and with that the other man strolled off.</p>
<p>“Fine,” John muttered and made it outside to the driveway where the car as usual was parked, waiting for him, the morning sun reflecting in the shiny black surface. The very image of it had always created a jolt of excitement when seeing it previously but now the mere notion that it stood there, waiting for him, made him angry.</p>
<p>He briskly marched over to it, knocked on the window to the driver’s seat and was rewarded with the window being rolled down, revealing the large silent man usually in charge of taking him to the house. </p>
<p>John had no idea what his name was, they had never bothered to exchange any words before, but John always had the distinct feeling that the driver perhaps wasn’t simply a driver, but had been given this particular assignment the moment John had agreed to be Sherlock’s physician. </p>
<p>His frame suggested that he would probably have done better as a bodyguard instead of sitting with a silly hat, cramped up in the driver’s seat, delivering people back and forth between this place and the house. But John also realised that Mycroft Holmes had a way of making people do things they normally wouldn’t consider and if he wanted this mountain of muscles to be in charge of driving another one of his employees to tend to his precious brother, so be it, no one was going to make a complaint about it.</p>
<p>Well, until now. Maybe the man would be released from this duty after John had informed him of the new status of things.</p>
<p>“You don’t need to come and collect me from now on,” he said as soon as the window was sufficiently rolled down. “I won’t be returning to your boss’s house, not today nor any other day. You can tell, Mr Holmes what I’ve said and that I’m resigning from my duties.”</p>
<p>The driver turned his head to give him a blank stare and then rolled the window up without a word and drove off.</p>
<p><i>Well that went easier than expected</i>, John thought as he returned back to work and pushed the nagging feeling of regret as far away as possible from his mind. </p>
<p>Regret was for those who could afford it, he had every intention to stop wallowing in his own misery and move on with his life as quickly as possible, he just needed to inform the part of him that still held onto the past that it was due time to let go and move forward.</p>
<p>Sending back the car had been a good start.</p>
<p>But naturally, things did not go that smoothly when one was dealing with Mycroft Holmes.</p>
<p>Two days later the car showed up again and as John angrily stormed out to tell the driver to fuck the bloody hell off, he was met with a very familiar figure in a three-piece suit sitting in the backseat with the door open, inviting John to join him for a conversation.</p>
<p>John positively seethed with frustration as he stared into the cold eyes of  his employer where he calmly leaned against the leather seat, features neutral but the hands holding the handle of a Malacca cane in a grip so firm it made the knuckles turn white, told a different story.</p>
<p> It was the sight of those conflicting emotions that made John decide that the easiest way to end it all was perhaps to do it directly with the man who had hired him in the first place. So reluctantly he climbed into the car and seated himself before he cut straight to it.</p>
<p>“I believe I told your driver that I had resigned. That was two days ago. I have not changed my mind since then,” he said, keeping as much distance between himself and Mycroft as he possibly could.</p>
<p>Without moving a muscle, Mycroft smoothly replied.</p>
<p>“So I was informed. But I came here with the intention to see if things could perhaps be salvageable between yourself and my brother, despite your message. It would be quite a nuisance to start looking for a new physician this close to the wedding, especially someone he wouldn’t immediately chew up and spit out at the very first sight.”</p>
<p>John gave Mycroft a hard stare because he wasn’t sure if that wasn’t exactly what had happened to him despite everyone’s insistence that he had managed to handle Sherlock so very well. If he really thought about it, he hadn’t handled Sherlock that well at all, Sherlock had simply made it seem that way while in reality he had manipulated the situation to his own liking all along. </p>
<p>Chewed up and spit out indeed......</p>
<p>“I’m sorry but I have made my mind up, I have no intention of returning to care for your brother anymore.”</p>
<p>Mycroft sighed and his grip around the handle of the Malacca cane tightened even further.</p>
<p>“I don’t confess to know the whole truth about what happened after I left the other night, you were gone when I returned and my brother hasn’t given me a satisfying explanation for your departure, but I’m assuming it had to do with the discovery of his drug abuse, your surprise when finding out was very telling, your displeasure even more so.”</p>
<p>John nodded, his eyes for a second turning away to look out the window instead. Behind the tainted windows the world outside looked dark and grey, not a sign of life anywhere. It felt like he was trapped with a snake charmer inside a small cubicle and if he looked into the other man’s eyes, he would somehow become spellbound into doing something he didn’t want to do. </p>
<p>Instead he addressed the window when he spoke.</p>
<p>“That’s part of it, yes. There is more to it of course, but nothing I feel the need to discuss with you or anyone else. All you need to know is that I won’t continue as his physician.”</p>
<p>“You have the right to terminate our arrangement of course, as I stated when we agreed on it in the first place. But I have to confess that I am slightly disappointed that you’re throwing in the towel this late into the game. Think of the advantages, stick it out for the remaining time and you’ll have a whole new career to look forward to. I’m even willing to increase your salary to sweeten the prospect, as I’m well aware of some feathers having been ruffled on account of my brother’s latest behaviour.....”</p>
<p>“But I’m not willing to accept your offer,” John angrily cut him off as he turned his head to face him.</p>
<p>He stubbornly ignored Mycroft’s disappointed look.  </p>
<p>The fact that Sherlock had a spiralling drug addiction that had lead to an overdose less than a week ago and was referred to as “his latest behaviour” as if he had nicked a few apples from a neighbour’s garden or played truant, told John everything he needed to know about the dynamic between the two brothers, something he should have guessed from his first encounter with them if he hadn’t been too busy looking at a firm arse in a tight pair of trousers. </p>
<p>Sherlock was the constant cause for concern, throwing himself into tricky situations without a second thought, while Mycroft was the one ready with a mop and a bucket to clean up the mess afterwards every time. If John didn’t know the pleasure Mycroft derived from having Sherlock under his relentless control, he might have felt sorry for him, for both of them really. As it was now, they deserved each other.</p>
<p>Just as he was ready to get out of the car before Mycroft would try to persuade him with yet another offer, he paused for a second and then decided to say something that had been nagging on his mind ever since Saturday night. </p>
<p>Despite Sherlock’s deception, a part of John still naturally cared for him, and drugs withstanding, this ought to be addressed, and he might as well be the one to do it as no one else was likely going to. </p>
<p>So he cleared his throat and fixated Mycroft with a firm look.</p>
<p>“This might not be my place to say, but as I’m resigning from my position, I’m going to take the opportunity to do so anyway.”</p>
<p>Mycroft raised his eyebrows in an enquiring gesture but said nothing, so John continued. </p>
<p>“Whatever reason you have for seeing Sherlock married to Victor Trevor is not going to be worth it in the end when your brother is clearly so unhappy that he has resorted to drugs. Granted, I have no proof that the wedding and his drug abuse are related in any way, but what I saw during that dinner party was a person who looked absolutely miserable, so I’m going to make a guess and say that if Sherlock is forced to go through with the wedding it will likely end in disaster.”</p>
<p>Mycroft instantly snorted at this.</p>
<p>“Nonsense. Victor and Sherlock have known each other for years, they were together when both were students at Cambridge. In fact, as the man himself confirmed, he never once stopped caring for my brother despite being separated from him for years and as I’m sure everyone at that dinner party could attest, no one loves Sherlock as much as Victor Trevor does. “</p>
<p><i>I do</i>, quickly flashed through John’s mind, but he at once waved it away. That ship had sailed.</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t doubt that Victor loves Sherlock in his own very peculiar kind of way, more like a possession than a human being if his speech was anything to go by. But what of Sherlock and <i>hi</i>s feelings? We didn’t hear a single word on the subject from him that evening. In fact, I have never heard him say <i>anything</i> to indicate that he is in love with Mr Trevor.”</p>
<p>“That’s hardly surprising, Sherlock doesn’t do declarations of love. There’s nothing unusual about that, there are lots of people who don’t feel comfortable talking in front of others about their most inner feelings. In fact, I would say that’s quite common.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps. But not one word, not even once? Even in private?” John objected, causing Mycroft to narrow his eyes in suspicion.</p>
<p>“Why would he tell <i>you</i> anything in private? You’re only his doctor, hardly his confidant.”</p>
<p>John didn’t reply, because what could he say without revealing that he and Sherlock had engaged in a far more intimate relationship than what usually existed between a doctor and his patient. </p>
<p>In the end he didn’t want to complicate things further by telling Mycroft that he and Sherlock had been sleeping with each other for weeks, because even if it was tempting to tell someone the truth, nothing good could come out of a revelation like that.</p>
<p>Yet, somehow his omission to answer Mycroft’s question seemed to convey more than he had realised, and Mycroft’s eyes turned hard.</p>
<p>“Oh, I see. Perhaps there was more to your infatuation than just wishful thinking? Did he perhaps even encourage your feelings?”</p>
<p>John refused to acknowledge that question, so he stubbornly didn’t respond. Instead he chose to put an end to the conversation before it ran the risk of turning ugly. Mycroft was clearly not interested in hearing him out regarding Victor and John was not willing to explain his relationship status with Sherlock any further, so they had reached an impasse.</p>
<p>“I’ve told you what I wanted to say, what you choose to do with it is up to you.  I just wanted you to know that there is a strong possibility that your brother is slowly going to kill himself with those drugs if he doesn’t get proper help and by my estimation, looking at his face while he was seated next to his fiancé, hearing Victor talk the way he did about them, I would say that their marriage is going to end in misery if they go through with it, and drugs might be the only consolation your brother has to cope with that disaster.”</p>
<p>If Mycroft was in any way effected by these words, it wasn’t visible in his features, quite contrary he looked indifferent, his eyes void from any emotion.</p>
<p>“Whatever you might think, Dr Watson, you don’t really know my brother. He has been experimenting with drugs many times over the years, but that has nothing whatsoever to do with his upcoming marriage to Victor Trevor. You’re quite right in that leaving my brother to his own devices will mean that he sooner or later will succumb to his abuse completely. That was one of the reasons why we needed a physician to check up on him in the first place, because no one deceives like an addict and my brother is the most manipulative one of them all, but blood tests and physical exams don’t lie. If they had been executed properly on a regular basis, we could have caught wind of this sooner.”</p>
<p>John felt the accusation hit him hard and he knew Mycroft was right when he hinted that John had failed to do his job like he should have.</p>
<p> It was eating away at his conscience badly enough as it was, without someone else pointing it out as well, because he was tired of being treated as if <i>he</i> held a part of the blame for this terrible situation, as if <i>he</i> was somehow responsible for this mess when in reality Sherlock had done his very best to go behind his back the whole time. </p>
<p>It wasn’t his fault that Sherlock was a manipulate, lying, deceitful bastard with a brother who didn’t care how miserable he was and a fiancé who was pathologically possessive of his every move. It wasn’t his fault that no one wanted to listen to his misgivings about the wedding and it certainly wasn’t his fault that Sherlock was now using drugs again. </p>
<p>None of it was no longer of any concern to him. He had said what he had wanted to say and if no one wanted to listen, what more could he do? </p>
<p>If Mycroft wanted to play the blaming game he would have to find someone else to do it with.</p>
<p>“There is no point continuing this conversation as my mind is made up and yours seems to be as well, Mr Holmes. I’m terminating our agreement and will not return to tend to your brother anymore. I’m sure you and Mr Trevor, between the two of you, will find a suitable candidate to tend to him for the duration of time, someone who will hopefully find a way to put a  stop the drug abuse as well. All I know is that it’s not going to be me.”</p>
<p>He paused and they stared at each other, Mycroft still calm and collected outwardly, even if no one truly knew what went on inside that mind of his, while  John trembled slightly from supressed anger, conquering the desire to grab the other man by his lapels and shake him just to make him see some sense. </p>
<p>Naturally he refrained from doing so, as he knew it wouldn’t earn him more than a look of displeasure. Instead he took a deep sigh before he spoke his final words.</p>
<p>“I would also like to inform you that I’m going to resign from my current position as well. In case you were planning to fire me. There is now no need to make such a threat as I’ll leave by the end of the month.”</p>
<p>Mycroft’s lips twisted in cold disdain.</p>
<p>“I would never even contemplate executing such a threat. If you continue working here it is of no consequence to me, I haven’t the faintest idea who the people working here are.”</p>
<p>
  <i>Ouch.</i>
</p>
<p>John felt his fists tightening, itching to lash out, but trampled down any instinct he had of knocking his former employer. Instead he, as calmly as he possibly could manage it, said:</p>
<p>“I notice that being an arsehole runs in the family. That actually explains a lot. Goodbye.”</p>
<p>And with  those words he got out of the car and walked away, not bothering to close the door behind him, feeling a childish satisfaction in knowing that Mycroft would have to either do it himself or ask his driver to do it, because John was done doing anything more for this man and it was with a satisfied grin on his face that he walked back into work. </p>
<p>He would from now on try to focus on what he had in front of him instead of looking back at things that couldn’t be altered, start searching for a new job and let go off the past in an effort to move on. Sherlock would probably haunt his thoughts for a long time to come but by removing himself from any reminders of him it would eventually become easier.</p>
<p>Happy with how he had handled the situation with Mycroft, he decided to join a couple of his co-workers for an evening down at the pub after work to keep himself from moping around and instead celebrate his new-found freedom. </p>
<p>After a couple of beers and a few rounds of dart, they all stumbled back to the barracks and John crashed face first into bed, managing to fall asleep for the very first time without the image of Sherlock etched into his retinas.</p>
<p>But after an hour or so he woke by something disturbing him in his sleep and as his tired eyes slowly opened to see what the cause for the disturbance was, he saw a tall dark figure looming over him where he was splayed out on the bed.</p>
<p>It was too murky in the room and he was too tired to see any details properly but he immediately flinched in shock and then quickly began reaching for his service gun that he still, out of habit, kept nearby within reach. </p>
<p>But a firm grip around his wrist put a stop to that idea and the figure leaned in even closer, until they almost ended up face to face, a gust of warm breath ghosting John’s cheek.</p>
<p>As his head was still struggling to make sense of the situation, a very familiar voice whispered into his ear, causing the hairs on his arms to stand:</p>
<p>“Don’t say a word, don’t make a sound, just follow me outside.”</p>
<p>Then the shadow withdrew and disappeared into the darkness, leaving John staring in shock, for a second uncertain of what to do. </p>
<p>He blinked several times, as if woken from a deep and heavy slumber, his head not fully capable of properly grasping the situation. But then he slowly rose from his bed, his heart increasingly pounding rapidly inside his chest as he straightened his back and stepped out through the door, ready to face whatever was waiting for him outside.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. An encounter in the dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As he stepped out of the barrack his eyes failed to see anyone. </p>
<p>The moon was almost full and the lawn outside as well as the path leading down the to lake were clearly visible in the dim light and yet it looked like no one was waiting for him as he passed through the door. There wasn’t a single person in sight. </p>
<p>He took a few steps forward, turning his head to check in each direction, his skin prickling from the chill in the air while his eyes scanned the area carefully. </p>
<p>It was a silent night and apart from the sound of the wind slightly rustling the leaves in the bushes around him, it seemed like he was completely alone, and yet he felt very aware of a presence lurking somewhere in the dark.</p>
<p> His body had turned tense as his eyes did their best to catch sight of any unusual activity despite the obscured view, while several mixed feelings rushed through his system, his feet treading carefully with every step he took.</p>
<p>As he still failed to see anyone, the tension gradually faded and for a second he contemplated the option that he had simply dreamt the whole thing. </p>
<p>Considering the combination of a few too many beers, his sleepless nights and the strain he had been through over the past couple of days it was fully plausible that his mind could play tricks on him, even if it seemed a bit far-fetched. </p>
<p>That voice had sounded so real and something must have caused him to wake up from his heavy slumber. Could a dream really create such a lasting after-effect?</p>
<p> But as no one was seemingly waiting for him outside he decided that there was nothing more for him to do but to return to bed and get back to sleep, God knew he needed it badly if this was what his mind managed to do to him when he didn’t have enough rest.</p>
<p>Slowly he turned to walk back to the barrack, but he didn’t make it very far before something hard suddenly pressed against his shoulder blades and he froze mid-step. </p>
<p>Because of course it had not been a dream. </p>
<p>He would have recognised that voice anywhere, he had hated that voice from the very moment he had first been subjected to it, that idiotic drawl with the pretence of upper class that the man didn’t quite manage to pull off. </p>
<p>And since the first time hearing it, John had been forced to listen to that same voice torment him with the most sickening topic imaginable, no less than a week ago, standing with a drink in hand facing a table full of anonymous guests while leering at the recipient of his flowery speech.</p>
<p>So of course John’s nightly visitor had not been his mind playing tricks on him. And neither was the eerily familiar item that quite forcefully pressed against his back right now.</p>
<p>He contemplated trying to turn and face his challenger but did not even manage to take half a step before a voice behind his back addressed him from the shadows.</p>
<p>“Remain silent and don’t even think about turning. Just walk straight ahead towards that little grove to the left. I don’t think I need to tell you that disobeying me would be very unwise right now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I need to tell <i>you</i> that pointing a weapon on another person is very much illegal.” John heatedly replied as he felt his tension return simultaneously as his anger rose.</p>
<p>The pressure against his back intensified and he instinctively tried to shy away from it but failed as a hand grabbed his shoulder to keep him in his place.</p>
<p>“So is keeping a stolen service weapon from the army, tucked away under your mattress,” came the cool reply. “Now, start moving.”</p>
<p>John felt himself go completely cold when he heard those words.  Because how had <i>he</i> found out about the gun? And more importantly, how had he managed to get his hands on it?</p>
<p>Not wanting to tempt his chances by speaking too soon, he did as he was told and began walking towards the grove and then stopped promptly as he reached it, assuming that the reason for putting some distance to the barrack had been to prevent anyone from hearing them talk. They were also, and this was a more unsettling realisation to consider, too far off for anyone to help him out if he needed it.</p>
<p>John steeled himself and straightened his back, trying to gain his composure which was difficult considering the fact that he was standing in a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, his skin cold and his bare feet wet from crossing the dewy grass. A gun being firmly pressed against his back was hardly improving the situation either.</p>
<p>But then he realised that he had lived through far worse than this. This was nothing compared to the hail of gunfire crossing the night sky like blazing stars being shot from the enemy line or being woken to the sound of the war alarm signalling that their camp was being under attack. </p>
<p>And yet, he could feel his heartbeat pick up as he stopped and stared straight ahead, that firm pressure of a muzzle being pushed against his back while he tried to not make a move that would aggravate the other man into using the trigger.</p>
<p>“How did you know about my service gun?” he asked calmly as he had regained enough composure to keep his voice level and even. </p>
<p>He could feel his skin crawl from the realisation that the hand holding the gun had rummaged through his stuff, deliberately or by accident stumbled upon the weapon and then taken it without his knowledge. When had this happened? When was the last time he had actually seen the gun still tucked away under his mattress? How could he allowed himself to have been so careless?</p>
<p>“I know everything there is to know about you.....” the voice replied from the darkness behind his back.</p>
<p>Well, hopefully not <i>everything</i>, John thought, supressing a shudder of tense nervousness. Because if so, that would certainly explain the presence of the gun even more and perhaps also reveal the outcome of this grim situation. He dearly hoped that wouldn’t become the case. </p>
<p>He tried remembering how many bullets the gun contained. Well, plenty to put a hole through him if necessary. Better avoid that if possible....</p>
<p>The hand holding the gun pressed it further into his back though, clearly having ideas not coinciding with his own at all.</p>
<p>“I know all about the discharged former army doctor, stationed in Afghanistan, injured to the shoulder and sent home with a one-way ticket and a measly army pension as reward for your services. Such a pitiful end to an illustrious career.”</p>
<p>“That’s not what....” John began but quickly turned silent when the ominous sound of a click from the trigger was heard. </p>
<p>He held his breath while waiting for the impact of a gunshot to echo through the night, but instead, after a few seconds of silence, the voice simply resumed talking.</p>
<p> “For some unfathomable reason you decided to slave away at this facility upon your return, that is until  you procured the golden ticket that earned you a better position as well as a higher salary while performing the most lowly medical tasks imaginable. For someone who went through the hardship of medical school and then served in the army, it is quite a mystery why you would settle for such a menial assignment if there wasn’t something else that drew your interest. Which brings me to the very reason for my curiosity in the man that hides beneath the medical title.”</p>
<p>A pause and the muzzle trailed across John’s spine, as if looking for just the right spot. But once again no shot was fired and his assailant broke the silence once again.</p>
<p>“Do you think I would allow just anyone, doctor or not, to tend to my fiancé without digging up everything that I could possibly find about that person? There are plenty of strange data when it comes to you, Dr Watson, but luckily I know how to procure whatever information I need.”</p>
<p>John waited for a second, hesitant if he should risk a bullet to his back for replying, but as there was an evident pause to the monologue, he took the opportunity to speak his mind. </p>
<p>“Well, there is always that well-proven method where you simply ask a person about what you want to know, instead being all creepy about it, waving a gun....”</p>
<p>A laugh was heard, the discord of a shrill tone to it that caused John to shudder.</p>
<p>“No need to be that polite about it. I have Mycroft Holmes as my soon-to-be brother in law who has a fondness for digging up everything there is to know about a person and the rest I take some particular pride in finding out on my own. Which brings me to the very reason for my nightly visit. I have some questions that I would like you to answer for me.”</p>
<p>“And you feel it necessary to point a gun at me while doing so?”</p>
<p>“Well, as there was one so very conveniently available.”</p>
<p>“You know that you can’t possibly shoot me, right? The police would be here in an instant if a gun was fired in a place like this.”</p>
<p>The was a soft scoff heard.</p>
<p>“Do you really want to bring the police’s attention to your illegal service weapon? Not sure they’re going to side with you as readily as you might think. Accidents happen, triggers get pulled and it is awfully dark out here. Who’s to say who did what when there are no other witnesses around and no one to corroborate your story? That gun is more incriminating to you than it is to me.”</p>
<p>“May I remind you that you are the one holding it..." John dryly pointed out.</p>
<p>“Ah, but it has your fingerprints all over it, and I took the precaution of wearing gloves. It is quite chilly tonight after all.”</p>
<p>John tightened his jaw, while closing his eyes for a moment to keep his boiling anger in check. However outlandish it sounded, it seemed as if he did not have the upper hand in this situation right now and it would therefor be foolish to continue arguing the case. </p>
<p>Instead he chose to address another question that seemed equally important to find the answer to.</p>
<p>“It would be interesting to know how you became aware of the existence of that gun in the first place. That can hardly have been written down in any file given to you by Mycroft Holmes,” he said through clenched teeth.</p>
<p>“No mystery to it. This is of course not the first time I’ve visited that sad shack you choose to call a home,” came the lofty reply. “The rest of your belongings are really a pathetic variety of knickknacks, but this weapon was an interesting, if a bit unexpected, surprise. What intrigues me is how no one else has managed to find your little secret until I did. Keeping a gun tucked away under your mattress is hardly a good hiding spot.”</p>
<p>John snorted at that.</p>
<p>“Well, unlike you, my co-workers would never dream of violating my privacy by searching through my personal belongings.”</p>
<p>“Maybe they haven’t found the right incentive to do so yet.”</p>
<p>“And you have?” John hissed, his hackles raised, because despite knowing that any outburst could turn fatal, he couldn’t bring himself to calm down sufficiently enough to keep quiet. He was lucky that he at least managed to not make any sudden movements or that gun surely would go off.</p>
<p>“Of course, I have incentive. A rather good one in fact. Because whatever Sherlock tells me about what the two of you are up to during your visits to the house, I certainly have my doubts about it.”</p>
<p>John rolled his eyes even if no one could see it.</p>
<p>“How shocking....the self-proclaimed jealous fiancé is having suspicions about what his beloved is up to behind his back and now everyone is going to suffer for it. How are you ever going to last through years of marriage if you’re this jealous even without being actually married yet? You know, jealousy is not a particularly becoming trait. Least of all to the person subjected to it.”</p>
<p>“I’m not interested in knowing if my traits are becoming or not. What I care about is knowing what my future husband and his doctor gets up to when no one is around to see it. It makes perfect sense for a man to look after his investments.”</p>
<p>“A fiancé is hardly an investment.”</p>
<p>The sudden grip of a firm hand around John’s neck almost startled him, fingers digging deep into the skin and as the other man spoke, his voice was much closer now.</p>
<p>“Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve invested for this wedding to happen and Sherlock is certainly the biggest part of it. As my fiancé, he is mine to look after and when I see a situation that I think appears suspicious I would do anything in my power to get to the bottom of it. Which brings me back to the reason why we are standing out here in the middle of the night.”</p>
<p>“Assumingly because pointing a gun at another person in broad daylight would have ended you all kinds of trouble?” John hissed and tried jerking his head out of the firm grip, but to no avail.</p>
<p>There was a snort heard and John felt his jaw muscles clench even harder at the sound of it. </p>
<p>“Indeed, the darkness is very helpful in that aspect” Victor agreed. “But there is also that useful element of surprise when catching someone off guard that makes this setup so ideal. I find that people are much more willing to do what I ask of them when they are left without any other choice.”</p>
<p>“And what is it that you want from me, Mr Trevor?”</p>
<p>“Like I told you, I want you to answer some questions for me. And I would also appreciate your discretion afterwards as my presence here would not be very well received if brought to Sherlock’s attention. Nor Mycroft’s for that matter.”</p>
<p>John’s drew in a large breath of air in indignation. </p>
<p>“You’ve got a lot of nerve asking me for a favour while at the same time pressing a loaded gun to my back. But no need to concern yourself about me telling them that you’re trespassing on their property at night, threatening people who work here with a stolen gun while making outlandish demands. I’m no longer in charge of Sherlock’s medical exams, nor anything else that has to do with him. So I’m not sure I’m the right person for you to ask any questions at all.”</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence in which John envisioned how the other man took the time to contemplate this piece of information. As he spoke again there was a tone of doubt in his voice and the hand holding the gun was slightly wavering, the pressure decreasing.</p>
<p>“I find that piece of news highly unlikely. I haven’t heard a word about you resigning from your duties.”</p>
<p>“Well, as I believe I mentioned mere minutes ago, communication is the simplest way of getting the information you want. For a couple about to get married you’re seriously lacking in that department. So, might I suggest talking to Sherlock instead of harassing me? If you don’t believe me, just ask him and he’ll confirm it.”</p>
<p>Now a deep sigh was heard and it was very tempting to just turn around and face each other while finishing this, but the gun was still pressed between his shoulder blades and as he had no idea how Victor might react, he wasn’t willing to test his luck by acting out of instinct. </p>
<p>This was really starting to get at his last nerve though.</p>
<p>“There’s a problem to your suggestion,” Victor said and the firm grip around John’s neck was released as doubt now had been replaced with resignation in his voice when he spoke. “Sherlock hasn’t been available for me to talk to since we parted from Mr Magnussen’s dinner party last Saturday. Mycroft says he’s feeling unwell and who, if not his trusted doctor, would know what that is all about? So naturally you would be my first source of information. There is something odd about the whole thing and that’s not the first strange thing that has happened since you decided to step into our lives.” </p>
<p>John supressed a sigh as he realised that Mycroft hadn’t told Victor anything about the drugs and naturally Victor was now suspicious of his beloved's unexpected unattainability. </p>
<p>A twitch of concern crossed his mind as he contemplated how Sherlock was actually doing if Mycroft was keeping him away from Victor’s prying eyes this many days after the overdose. Had something else perhaps happened after he had left the house? Another relapse? Something worse?</p>
<p>He immediately waived those thoughts away though. That was no longer of any concern to him. It was a normal reaction to become worried about Sherlock’s welfare as he had cared very deeply for him and to an extent still did, but nothing good could come from getting himself involved again. </p>
<p>So he stoically stuck to his decision of keeping away from any further entanglement.  </p>
<p>And he certainly had no desire to be the one to inform Victor Trevor of the toxic news that Sherlock Holmes was a bloody junkie. He was done accommodating to this twisted group of people and their shady business with each other.</p>
<p>“I have no idea what’s ailing him. I haven’t seen him since Saturday either,” he replied curtly.</p>
<p>Now the doubt was back in Victor’s voice.</p>
<p>“And why is that? You’re hired to tend to him twice a week, what has prevented you from performing your duties all of a sudden? You’ve been practically glued to him ever since Mycroft hired you.”</p>
<p>John ventured to shake his head at that.</p>
<p>“I have performed what I was paid to do, I have submitted my reports to my employer and that is all. I have not seen my patient since Saturday night because I have been busy with my other work and if you need to know more, it would be better if you got it from Mycroft. Or Sherlock when he is feeling better. I can just assure you that you don’t need to worry about my presence in that house anymore, I won’t be returning, and everyone involved is informed of my decision. So there is no obstacle standing between you and Sherlock. There never was, but now it certainly never will be.”</p>
<p>As he had gotten this information off his chest he took a deep breath before he finally decided to turn around and face the dark shadow that still stood pointing his gun at him but clearly had lost the will to actively use it as a way of intimidation. </p>
<p>Despite the difficulty to discern his features more clearly, Victor Trevor had the look of someone a bit lost instead of frightening and vengeful. </p>
<p>His mind was clearly churning over the piece of information John had offered him and that had rendered him defenceless for a second, almost vulnerable instead. To take the gun out of his hands now would have been child’s play, to simply clock him a hard one straight to the chin even easier. </p>
<p>But John did none of those things. He was tired of this, the whole situation. How was he supposed to move forward when every damn idiot was determined to drag him straight back into it? Couldn’t they just leave him alone?</p>
<p>Besides, aggravating Victor now, while still holding the gun, would be a very unwise move, despite his temporarily distracted state. </p>
<p>So instead John took a few steps back to give Victor some space and spoke calmly, as if addressing a horse that was easily spooked. </p>
<p>“I’m going to take few minutes to myself down by the lake and then I’m going to return to my bed to get some sleep. When I return, I’ll expect you to be gone and my gun put back where it’s supposed to be.”</p>
<p>He was perfectly aware that he had no way of threatening Victor with anything, the gun was after all illegal and he had been the one to keep it when he should have returned it after his homecoming, but he prayed that the firmness in his tone, the one had often used back in the army, would be able to have some impact anyway. It was difficult to tell as Victor’s features were mostly shrouded in shadows but at least the hand holding the gun had now been lowered slightly. </p>
<p>It was somewhat satisfying to notice that other people could also be rendered speechless by unexpected events, because Victor was clearly lost inside his own head at the moment and had lost his momentum. </p>
<p>John seized the opportunity to finish what he wanted to say.</p>
<p>“And for the record, I wasn’t expelled from the army, I was sent home because my time there had come to an unfortunate end. But I was rewarded a medal of honour for my services, so I’m nothing like the pathetic penniless and disgraced war veteran you portrayed me as. I’ve probably killed more people with that gun than you could even begin to wrap your mind around and you wave it around like it’s a toy for you to play with. So my advice to you is to get the hell out of here before I lose my patience and show you how it’s actually put to use.”</p>
<p>With that he turned his back on Victor once more and resolutely strode off towards the lake, back straight, head held high. </p>
<p>He hadn’t felt this good since sitting in the backseat with Mycroft yesterday, telling him what an arsehole he was. His body still felt tense, but a warmth spread through him with every step he took, walking away from all of it.</p>
<p>It reminded him of a frightening encounter with a sand viper he had once come across in the desert. </p>
<p>He had stepped too close without looking and when noticing its presence mere inches from him, coiled up, ready to strike out, he had frozen to the spot at first and simply stared at it, waiting for it to attack. Even to have slowly removed his foot could have provoked a reaction. </p>
<p>But then, as if finding the very core of self-preservation inside himself, he had continued to walk instead of hesitating, as if pretending that the situation wasn’t threatening to him. And the snake had not lashed out. </p>
<p>This was exactly how he felt right now.</p>
<p>Despite knowing the risk of turning his back against a man with such a volatile temper as Victor had, he kept walking and to his relief he heard no steps following from behind. After an additional few steps he turned his head to glance backwards, confirming that the spot where Victor had stood was now deserted. </p>
<p>He took a deep breath of the cold night air, filled his lungs with it before slowly exhaling, then headed all the way down to the shore. </p>
<p>The moon hovered above the surface like a huge luminous orb and he stared at it for a few minutes while he tried to clear his head of everything that had happened tonight. </p>
<p>Why was everyone he came into contact with at this place stark raving mad? And how had he failed to realise this sooner? </p>
<p>He must have really been beguiled by Sherlock to have failed to notice this before....</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Human error</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He walked a couple of steps along the shore, allowing his feet to come in contact with the cold water, sinking into the wet sand, as he made sure that Victor would be given enough time to disappear. Then he slowly began heading back up the hill towards the barrack once more. </p>
<p>As he had put the shore behind him, he almost expected to see the shadowy figure to be back, standing on the lawn, illuminated by the moonlight, gun once more aimed at his approaching body. But to his relief, no one was there.</p>
<p>As he, after a few additional steps reached the grove where he had felt Victor press the muzzle to his back, his eyes scoured his surroundings for a final time, looking for any sudden movements or lurking shadows, but he failed to see anyone. </p>
<p>Allowing the sense of relief to settle, he was just about to move forward, passing one of those luscious lilacs that he enjoyed the scent of when passing them on his way to the lake every morning, when he suddenly felt an arm snake its way around his middle and a gust of breath against his neck sent a jolt of fear down his spine despite his best effort to tamper down any sudden movements. His whole body went rigid and he wished he had made the effort to reclaim his gun after all. </p>
<p>Just as true panic was about to set in, a recognizable scent hit his nostrils, a scent he had felt many times over the past couple of months, one he had inhaled with great enthusiasm every single time and a deep soft voice was heard whispering close to his ear as the arm around his waist ran softly along the vertebrae towards his neck.</p>
<p>“I like it when you go all military, Dr Watson,” the voice smoothly purred, “It makes even the most badly behaved boys to heed your orders. And secretly I think you enjoy whipping out that army persona from time to time and bring us all into submission….. Just imagine the orders you’re probably dying to bark at me. I can actually feel your pulse beating like a hummingbird inside your chest right now, picking away at your resolve. Let me make it easier for …Ouch!”</p>
<p>John had grabbed a firm hold of the wandering arm and twisted it against the other man’s back, pressing a little more forcefully than strictly necessary just for the pleasure of hearing a gasp of pain. Then he deftly turned the struggling body so he could face it before he pressed his mouth to an ear, his turn to do some whispering, his voice decidedly more hostile.</p>
<p>“You have a lot of nerve sneaking up on me like this! Do you really think I would be stupid enough to fall for your tricks again after everything that’s happened? Or was this a joint collaboration between you and that deranged fiancé of yours? Has the world actually gone completely mad or why is it that everyone is running around in the middle of the night, behaving like lunatics? Who’s next? Is your brother perhaps going to jump out of a bush with a rapier?”</p>
<p>Another gasp of pain and then the soft rustle of dried grass as the other man’s knees made impact when they dropped down in front of him to the ground while John continued to hold the arm in a firm grip, unwilling to let go, still breathing heavily from his outburst.</p>
<p>At first there wasn’t a reply, merely continuous gasps of pain, but then a stressed voice came from the dark: </p>
<p>“When Victor came by the house tonight and I heard him being denied access to visit me and how agitated he became because of it, I figured that there was at least a 30 % chance of him seeking you out to get some answers. I seized the opportunity and came here shortly after he left the house. And predictably, he did not disappoint. Admittedly that gun he had with him was an unexpected twist of events and I didn’t manage to hear much of what you said to each other, except for that final threat you made, but I’m assuming it was the usual stupid possessive tosh. 30 % is admittedly not a particularly good number, but in this case my gamble payed off. Because whatever you might say about Victor, at least his jealousy came in handy for once and accomplished something that I had failed to achieve on my own. Sending a car or my brother to do my bidding has so far not earned me any success at all.”</p>
<p>Without releasing his grip, John’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he stared down at the dark figure twisting and turning underneath him, locked in his firm hold. He tried to let the flow of words sink in. He had almost forgotten how rapidly Sherlock occasionally chose to speak when worked up about something. Like a gun firing off shots at the speed of light, sometimes making it easy to miss what he was actually trying to say.</p>
<p>“That was <i>your</i> doing? Sending Mycroft with the car yesterday?” he finally said in disbelief as he caught on to the last part of Sherlock’s speech.</p>
<p>“Of course it was. Do you really think Mycroft voluntarily would stoop so low as to come in person and ask you to come back when he cold have easily replaced you with one of his own goons the minute you walked out of the door? Fortunately,<i> I’m</i> not as easily replaced, even if I’m sure he wishes he could do it sometimes, and as I would never accept anyone else as my doctor, he had to come in person to ask you to return. Don’t ask me what that favour cost me though, it puts me in a foul mood just thinking about it.  Especially as he failed, despite waiving the offer of a bigger salary in front of you. He clearly doesn’t know you at all. Offering money to do his dirty deed was never your biggest motivation after all, was it?”</p>
<p>John could feel his ribcage constrict and expand as he breathed heavily. This was all a bit too much to process and considering the rollercoaster of emotions he had been through for the last couple of days, as well as Victor’s unexpected and armed ambush followed by an even more unexpected one , words being delivered in that fast-paced speed reminiscent of a race car gearing up, it was difficult to know how he really felt about anything. He was still reeling from the shock of seeing Sherlock again. </p>
<p>Latching on to the first detail that stuck to his mind, he wryly noted:</p>
<p>“Nice to hear that I’m so easily replaceable.....” his mind immediately catching on to the picture of Mycroft snapping his fingers to produce a new doctor, someone more willing to do his bidding. Maybe someone more willing to look through his fingers about other things as well.</p>
<p>But that was clearly the wrong thing to say, a tone of annoyance colouring Sherlock’s instant reply.</p>
<p>“Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re not replaceable. <i>Not to me</i>. If my brother had been half as smart as he claims to be, he would have realised this already, but as he is as emotionally stumped as a log of wood, he naturally didn’t have a clue. “</p>
<p>“You’re hardly one to talk.....,” John muttered. “Feelings are not exactly your strongest forte either.”</p>
<p>Sherlock went silent for a second and John waited for the expected vehement denial or at least some sort of explanation, but it never came. Instead Sherlock began twisting again, trying to spring free from John’s strong hold.</p>
<p>“Are you going to release me or are you actually planning to break my arm?” he whined and John couldn’t help but feel a touch of satisfaction, having Sherlock down on his knees, forced to submit to his mercy.</p>
<p> It created a vague reminiscence of their sexual activities from the past, with him pinning Sherlock to a piece of furniture while pounding forcefully into him.</p>
<p>“It’s tempting.....” he said and heard Sherlock emit what almost sounded like a groan of despair, like a child realising that a hand stuck in a jar would not so easily be dislodged.</p>
<p>It was indeed tempting to keep him like this for a little bit longer, submissive to John’s unyielding hold, but after a last lingering moment of deadlock, he released his grip and took a few steps back while Sherlock straightened himself up and nursed his sore arm, scolding.</p>
<p> It was still too dark to see him properly but his familiar scent as well as his voice was all John had needed to know who he was facing this time. </p>
<p>And when the moon came out from behind a cloud and exposed both of them with a little bit of light and he was hit with the sight of those familiar features, the dark curls moving in the cool night breeze and that slim frame all dressed in black, he felt as if he had preferred it if he had been spared to look at what had once been so dear to him. </p>
<p>Looking at Sherlock now was almost too much, it made him want to reach out, to touch all those beloved details that had been accessible mere days ago, slam him to the ground, simultaneously wishing to hurt him to the core while also fucking him until he screamed, and John stepped back as if struck by lightning, because no, it could never be that way between them again.</p>
<p>Instead he grimly said: “Why did you come?” swallowing anything else that might try to sneak into his voice and expose everything he still felt for the other man. </p>
<p>He couldn’t afford to show any vulnerability. He was going to remain hard, cold and factual, rejecting every attempt Sherlock might try to charm his way back into his arms. </p>
<p>“I believe I told Mycroft that I’m no longer willing to be your physician and I’m sure he informed you of it as well. So why are you here? If you think I will change my mind.....”</p>
<p>Sherlock shook his head and his eyes turned downcast for a moment, looking at the ground, uncharacteristically meek for once. He showed more humbleness now than after being exposed with his drug abuse, which was ironic considering how he had behaved that night. </p>
<p>“No, I know you,” he said quietly before he turned his eyes back up to look at John. “You’re a proud man by nature and you hate being lied to, so naturally you resent the fact that you were so easily fooled by me. You shouldn’t be of course; anyone could have fallen for it.”</p>
<p>This immediately raised John’s hackles.</p>
<p>“You said it took a particular person to be so easily duped. A person who was so alone and desperate for companionship that he would be gagging for whatever you were willing to offer.”</p>
<p>“But isn’t that partly true though? You were lonely and you wanted me to show you affection, I could tell already on that first meeting between us in the garden, when Mycroft made the introductions. Your eyes kept wandering over my frame when you thought I wouldn’t notice.”</p>
<p>John could feel his face heat with embarrassed anger.</p>
<p>“You don’t need to keep pointing out how easily duped I was!”</p>
<p>“Forgive me. It wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to explain that you were particularly susceptible to what I had to offer. But what I’m really trying to say is that I had a plan ready before I even met you properly, from the moment Mycroft told me that you were going to become my new doctor. Just like I have had a plan for at least ten of my most recent doctors.....”</p>
<p>“What??!” John cut him off, his voice raised now, his face seething with rising anger at the thought of being just one in a long line of people Sherlock had seduced. “You slept with all of us?”</p>
<p>“Wh.....<i>No!</i> That was only with you. It seems I’m not explaining myself very well. What I meant to say was that I had a plan for every doctor that Mycroft hired to look out for me, different plans for different individuals, and before you do decide to give me one of those forceful slaps you seem to hand out so easily, let me emphasize once again that you were the only one I ever slept with.”</p>
<p>“Because you saw that I could be most easily deceived by seduction?”</p>
<p>“Well, yes....”</p>
<p>“You know, you have a spectacular way of making a person feel even more of an idiot than they did to begin with.”</p>
<p>The dark figure in front of him shrugged.</p>
<p>“I’ve been told by several reliable sources that my people skills are quite appalling, so your observation is most likely accurate.”</p>
<p>John took a deep breath to calm himself down, a hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to return to a calmer state of mind than that of a person bordering on raging fury. As he finally managed to gain an acceptable breathing pattern, he removed his hand and tried looking at Sherlock as coolly as possible.</p>
<p>“For the third and final time, Sherlock. Why are you here? If you don’t give me a proper answer I’ll walk straight back to my bed and forget all about this frankly outrageous meeting, you won’t get another chance of explaining yourself and I still won’t return as your doctor.”</p>
<p>A small sigh, then a straightening of shoulders before a voice that now sounded decidedly lower and more soft, began to talk. </p>
<p>“I’m here because I need you to help me. But also because.....”</p>
<p>He went quiet and John waited, impatiently looking at him, wondering what kind of nonsense would be coming next. </p>
<p>Somewhere in the distance a bird cried out and the sound of its hollow shriek emphasized the quietness that stretched between them and that fact that they were standing outside in the dark in the middle of the night, John with bare feet in the grass, dressed in only his boxers and a worn T-shirt, Sherlock with the lake glimmering behind his back, black and ominous like a large bottomless crater of tar, it all made for a strange and gloomy background. </p>
<p>Sherlock’s pale face looked at him from beneath a curtain of black curls that had fallen down across his forehead and his hands kept moving slightly as if he was trying to grasp for something to hold onto while coming up with the right thing to say. </p>
<p>John remained stoically waiting for his words to finally hit him.</p>
<p>“....I miss you, John,” they finally came, the voice strangely small and pitiful for a man with a personality that usually was larger than life.</p>
<p>The silence that followed was close to deafening and John felt his throat constrict as if he suddenly had trouble breathing, his heart pounding hard in his chest and his mouth going completely dry. Because what the hell kind of devilry was this all about? </p>
<p>Something pulled at his heartstrings for a brief second but just as quickly as that sensation had made itself known, it was gone again, tampered down by cold hard disbelief.</p>
<p>“I swear to you, Sherlock.....if you’re trying to pull another trick....” he growled and felt his fists clenching involuntarily at his sides.</p>
<p>The black curls danced around the pale face as Sherlock shook his head. When he spoke again his voice was back to normal though, not a trace of that small almost childlike innocent quality.</p>
<p>“I’m not. I swear. Believe me, it would have been less complicated if I didn’t miss you, it certainly wouldn’t have felt this embarrassing to admit to such a thing as I would never go through the trouble of saying it if I didn’t mean it.”</p>
<p>His eyes turned away for a second, looking down at his feet, as if searching for how to continue. But then, as if deciding that stalling any further would be pointless, he continued to talk, the words flowing out of him like water running from a tap.</p>
<p> “It appears all my intricate planning missed a huge but quite important part of the equation, a part involving human nature, so naturally it would be something I would overlook with my very limited knowledge on the subject.”</p>
<p>“You’re rambling....” John cut in and Sherlock threw his arms out in frustration, turning his back against John as he took a few steps closer to the shore, then turned again and paced back, his movements edgy and agitated. </p>
<p>“This isn’t something that is easy for me to admit!  I’m usually a very rational man who deals with matters of logic, not things to do with <i>feelings</i> and <i>sentiment.</i>” </p>
<p>He sneered as he said the words, face twisting with contempt. </p>
<p>“You must realise how utterly awkward, not to mention humiliating it is to accept failure for a person like me who is so out of his depth when it comes to a topic I have never been particularly interested in to begin with and normally wouldn’t waste my time on.....“</p>
<p>He continued to pace frantically as he spoke and John desperately wanted to make him stop, to force him to calm down, but unable to actually reach out and touch him, afraid what it would feel like if he actually crossed that line, he held up a preventive hand in front of Sherlock’s face instead.</p>
<p>“Quite frankly you’re not making any sense. There might be something important that you’re trying to tell me, but I can’t for the life of me figure it out as you’re firing out words at rocket-speed. Very incoherently I might add.”</p>
<p>A deep sigh was heard and the tall dark figure in front of him, once more obscured by shadows as the moon had disappeared behind a cloud, slumped, as if in defeat.</p>
<p>“What I’m trying is that yes, I <i>did</i> try to manipulate you into failing to perform your duties properly, I <i>did</i> take advantage of your state of mind and need for affection by offering you casual sex, no strings attached. I <i>did</i> try to keep your focus on our relationship so you would miss the obvious signs of my drug abuse as well as other things that I wanted to keep in the dark.</p>
<p> And the logical thing for me would have been to allow this to run its course for as long as it was needed and then move on. What I didn’t expect to happen was for me to form some sort of attachment to you, to start longing for your visits, to enjoy what we had and take more pleasure than what was strictly necessary from our sexual encounters but also from our shared time together when not engaging in anything physical. What I also didn’t expect when it all came crashing down, was that I was going to miss you and realise that I had made a mistake the second you walked out of the door. </p>
<p>I said what I did to you that night because I thought it would be easier for both of us if I pushed you away, if I bruised your ego so badly that you wouldn’t want to stay and continue to expose yourself to a situation that was beginning to be far too complicated for everyone involved. </p>
<p>Even when I saw the damage my words were causing you, I just marched on because I thought it was for the best if you left. And logically it still is, you should have no further part in my problematic situation, you deserve something better. But selfish as I am, I also realised that I missed you tremendously despite my best efforts trying to bury those feelings. </p>
<p>And when I realised that you actually were not coming back, I knew I had to do something, despite going against every logical instinct that should have prevented me from seeking you out. </p>
<p>And yet, here I am, apparently making a complete fool of myself and definitely complicating a disastrous situation even further by pouring my heart out in this manner. But as it seems I’m already too deep into this emotional calamity of my own making, I thought diving even further down the trenches couldn’t possibly cause me any more harm than my actions already have.”</p>
<p>He went quiet for a second before he spoke his final words.</p>
<p>“So what I said before still stands true. You are not easily replaceable to me, John Watson and I’m sorry that I ever made you believe that you were. I’m also apologizing in advance for the trouble I’m about to drag you into, if you’re still willing to return to me that is. Because the reason why I’m here, is to ask if you would consider continuing what we started and come back to me again?”</p>
<p>John stared at him, numb for words, his head about to burst from all the information he had just received, emotions running rampant inside of him, not all of them good, but some of them surprisingly conflicted  between disbelief and a sense of joyous light-headedness. </p>
<p>A voice inside of him whispered that Sherlock was manipulating him once again, that he was feeding John exactly what he wanted to hear, awakening a hope that had nothing to do with reality. </p>
<p>But a larger part of him had no interest in listening to that voice, he was completely ready to jump straight back into the shark tank, heart and soul exposed, ready for the sharp teeth of heartache and jealousy to tear into him again, if only for the opportunity to put his arms around that lithe beautiful body once more.</p>
<p>But then there was also a more sensible part of him, the middleman who dealt with common sense and reason, who raised a few burning questions that couldn’t be ignored, however tempting it was to just yield into whatever Sherlock was offering him. </p>
<p>What about Victor Trevor? What about the marriage? What about the drugs? The secrecy and the lies? What about the fact that Victor had threatened him with a loaded gun tonight?</p>
<p> He wasn’t sure he could take a second round of this, to feel his jealousy and resentment tear into him again, make him stay awake at night fretting about what Sherlock was doing with Victor, how the time was ticking away, closing in on the upcoming wedding, and how the situation would change after that. Would Sherlock perhaps try to deceive him again? And would Victor actually put a bullet through his body one of these days?</p>
<p>John realised that however irresistible it was to just wrap his arms around Sherlock and press his lips against his soft plush mouth and allow himself  to succumb to his supressed desire and longing, nothing good could come out of it if he didn’t take this opportunity to address the issues he knew they were still facing.</p>
<p>“If I am to do what you ask of me, how will our situation actually be? Are you going to break your engagement to Victor? Are you going to fully commit to me? Are you going to stop taking drugs?”</p>
<p>“The drug thing was never a serious issue, it was something I did to alleviate my boredom as well as numbing my pain. I’m not a true addict,” Sherlock scoffed and actually had the gall to sound haughty about it. </p>
<p>But John wasn’t buying it.</p>
<p>“That’s what <i>all</i> addicts say. The incident this weekend was hardly your first time. Mycroft says you’ve been losing weight for a while now…”</p>
<p>“Well, he would be the first to notice, the envious bastard....”</p>
<p>“Sherlock! No more lies! I realise now that you must have been taking them for a while. And I think I know why. Which leads us straight back to the core of all our problems really. What will you do about Victor?”</p>
<p>Sherlock sighed.</p>
<p>“Nothing. There is nothing I <i>can</i> do.”</p>
<p>“Why not? Just end the engagement. I know your brother seems intent on you going through with it for some reason, but you can’t live your life trying to please others if it is making you unhappy in the process.”</p>
<p>“My brother would love for me to end the engagement, believe me, it’s not Mycroft that’s forcing me into it.”</p>
<p>“Then what or who is?”</p>
<p>“It’s complicated....”</p>
<p>“Well, too bad. Because unless you tell me why you need to marry Victor Trevor, I’m not ready to go back to what we had. I want answers, Sherlock and you better start providing them or this is never going to work. That man is absolutely insane. You saw what he did tonight! Who threatens to shoot someone simply because he can’t stand another person?”</p>
<p>There was long pause and then a soft nod.</p>
<p>“I know. He is unravelling even more by every passing minute.”</p>
<p>“Then tell me why you’re putting up with it.” </p>
<p>Another pause, this time even longer. Sherlock had turned his face away from John, his face mostly obscured but his profile still visible as he stood staring out into the darkness, chewing on his bottom lip like a child contemplating what his options were. Then a deep sigh was heard, and he turned his head to face John again.</p>
<p>“Fine. Start asking your questions and I’ll do my best to answer them as well as I’m able.”</p>
<p>John looked at him, searching for a hint of trickery in what little he could discern of his shrouded features but realised that there was no way he would be able to tell if Sherlock was lying, simply by looking for clues. Sherlock needed to talk and not until John had heard what he had to say would he be able to make a decision on what to do next.</p>
<p>“Well then, first of all: tell me all about Victor. Who he is, what the connection between the two of you is, why you have accepted to marry him despite the fact that he’s obviously a lunatic? And why for God’s sake are you so reluctant to break it off with him? I want it all, not a single detail speared. And then, and only then will I be able to give you a proper answer of what will happen next.”</p>
<p>Sherlock nodded and then moved his hand in a beckoning gesture.</p>
<p>“Walk with me and I’ll try to tell you everything, as far as I’m able to. And try to bear with me, because it’s a long and arduous tale that doesn’t have a happy ending. But maybe you need to hear it to understand why it can not be you and me beyond what we already have, sneaking around behind people’s backs, illicit kisses and sex only when we know that we are alone. But considering circumstances, that’s better than nothing.”</p>
<p>John hesitated but then nodded.</p>
<p>“You know how I mentioned that I might need your help?” Sherlock said as they slowly walked down to the water, John doing his best to forget how poorly dressed he was to be walking along a shore at night. “Well, the thing is this....”</p>
<p>And with those words Sherlock began telling the long and complicated story about how he got involved with the man called Victor Trevor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Victor Trevor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I met Victor when I was seventeen, as a first-year student at Cambridge. It happened pretty much as he told it in his speech at the dinner party, his dog bit my ankle as I was heading down to the chemistry lab one morning, but he was very apologetic about it, made sure that I was taken to the closest hospital for a tetanus shot and some bandaging. It was a pretty bad wound, so I was bedridden for a few days and he came by every single day, to talk to me, to keep me company, to bring me things I needed and so forth. At first, I thought he was rather annoying but then I got used to his company and we eventually became friends. My first real friend.”</p>
<p>John turned to look at Sherlock. </p>
<p>Nothing in his face showed any signs of sentiment, he spoke very factually about it all, but there was nonetheless a tone of something indiscernible when he said those last words, a hint of sadness to them. </p>
<p>Sherlock spoke of a friendship that he had once clearly cherished but that did not fit very well with the version Victor had presented during Magnussen’s dinner party. </p>
<p>“He said that he fell in love with you on the very first day that you met. Doesn’t sound like just friendship to me,” John interjected. </p>
<p>Without looking at him, Sherlock shrugged, staring out across the lake, making it difficult to tell what he was truly feeling. Not that John had ever been very good at predicting what went on inside his head.</p>
<p>“Maybe he did, I don’t know. If he says that he did, it is probably true, whatever else I might think of him he isn’t a liar. Delusional yes, but a liar? No. To me at least he was a friend in the beginning and the novelty of having one for the very first time after many years of loneliness was both exciting, joyous but also very frightening, because I never knew why he wanted my company when so many others had turned down that opportunity over the years.</p>
<p> I constantly fretted over how I would make him stay and not wake up one day and realise that being with me was a ludicrous idea. Which considering current circumstances is ironic as I would want nothing more than for him to leave me alone these days. But back then I felt so blessed for his attention and camaraderie that I feared that it might slip through my fingers at any minute.</p>
<p>I remember that even Mycroft reacted with surprise when he found out about Victor, which confirmed my suspicions even further, that wanting to be with me was some sort of abnormality and probably to do with some underlying motive. Mycroft said that I was better off without complicating my life by attaching myself to someone that was bound to cause me pain in the end, but I was so happy that I ignored his advice and decided to enjoy my friendship with Victor whatever the consequences.”</p>
<p>John contemplated this for a second. </p>
<p>What Sherlock told him sounded like a poor little boy who had been very lonely growing up and had longed for companionship without knowing how to achieve it. </p>
<p>With a brother like Mycroft who told him that getting involved with other people was bound to end in nothing but heartache and agony, it wasn’t surprising that the first person that had showed him any sort of affection was bound to make a huge impact on a person who was used to being rejected and had developed a way of keeping people at bay with his razor-sharp-tongue in an effort to protect himself from getting hurt. </p>
<p>It was very sad to consider what a difference a friend at an early age could have made upon Sherlock if he had been given the right tools to achieve that. Mycroft had probably acted out of brotherly concern, but he was hardly the advocate for cultivating friendly relationships and if his opinions had dictated Sherlock’s view of the world throughout childhood it was bound to go pear-shaped eventually. </p>
<p>“After a few weeks, our friendship deepened. He was very persistent, and I assume that I was a bit curious too, so the relationship evolved into a romantic one. He was my first in that regard as well and he was very eager in his pursuit, so we became boyfriends soon after our sexual relationship started. </p>
<p>Being his boyfriend meant that I had to accompany him to things I had never before been a part of, like going out, dancing, drinking, socialising. I didn’t particularly like it and I never knew what was expected of me so in the beginning it was quite a struggle. </p>
<p>But an acquaintance of his introduced me to a solution to that problem in the form of a line of white powder that suddenly made all those things I hated bearable somehow. With that substance in my body I was suddenly the greatest dancer on every dancefloor, I was witty and knew how to loosen up, I became uninhibited in my socialising and I felt like a God some nights. </p>
<p>But naturally one line led to two and so on, and after that first barrier had been conquered, other substances followed soon enough. By the end of the term I was a full-blown addict and totally out of control. </p>
<p>Mycroft despaired of course but he wasn’t the controlling overbearing watchdog he is today, he didn’t have the resources nor the power to control my every move back then, but he executed his right as the older, and in his eyes, wiser sibling and was constantly on my back about my reckless ways and wanted me to break it off with Victor, get my act together and focus on my studies instead. </p>
<p>It annoyed me tremendously and I was frequently frustrated by his interference, so one night, high as kite and very spiteful about his relentless meddling, I decided to pay him back by breaking into his office and steal a project I knew he was working on at the moment.”</p>
<p>Sherlock paused for a second and snorted sardonically, as if berating his younger self for the stupidity of his actions. John wanted to reach out and touch his arm in a comforting gesture but felt unsure if it would be appreciated. Sherlock seemed too far off inside his own head to notice anything, so he refrained from following his instinct and kept his hands to himself. </p>
<p>“I had no idea how important that project was. To me at the time, Mycroft was simply a much older, pompous, boring busybody in a suit with an overblown ego who needed to be brought down a peg or two.”</p>
<p>Well, can’t say much has changed on that score, John thought wryly but didn’t say.</p>
<p>“I took the documents that I knew had kept him occupied for the past couple weeks. I knew exactly which ones to take as I had seen glimpses of them on his desk while visiting his office for one of my “lectures.” He never realised that he should have been careful around me as well, the way he was with other people. He never truly trusted me again after this.”</p>
<p>His voice trailed of for a second, and when he spoke next, his voice was hollow.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to stick it to him, annoy him the way he annoyed me. But what I ended up stealing were high security missile plans that would have ended him in a lot of trouble if it had been discovered that they had been stolen from the safe in his office.”</p>
<p>John’s eyes widened when he heard this and he raised his hand in pausing gesture.</p>
<p>“Wait, what? Mycroft had secret missile plans in a safe in his office?”</p>
<p>Sherlock turned to look at him, his face blank. When John realised that Sherlock wasn’t joking, his eyes widened even more.</p>
<p>“What <i>exactly</i> is it that your brother does for a living, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to figure it out?”</p>
<p>Sherlock’s mouth did a wry little twitch.</p>
<p>“Mycroft is the most powerful man you will ever encounter and yet officially he runs an obscure science lab for the Government outside of London, so you do the math. It’s not meant for normal people to be able to figure out what he does for a living.”</p>
<p>John contemplated this for a second but found it difficult to wrap his head around it none the less. </p>
<p>Everything about the Holmes brothers and the world they inhabited was so different from his own and yet they shared the same space, air and time as the rest of the population. </p>
<p>On some level he could fully grasp that Mycroft might have once had secret missile plans in his office, however outrageous that image might have seemed in any other context, and wasn’t that the whole key to their strange way of living,  nothing was ever normal with them, except for the fact that in their eyes, it was.</p>
<p>Naturally unconcerned about this particular detail of his narrative, Sherlock continued with his story.</p>
<p>“My original strategy had been to hold on to the stolen plans for a day just to spite him, then return them by dropping them in his lap at breakfast, taunting him with the fact that I had broken into his office and stolen something of importance underneath his nose, naturally threatening him with a repeat performance if he didn’t stop interfering with my life. </p>
<p>And even if that would most certainly have led to a row of epic proportions, it could have ended right there and then. But unfortunately, that’s not how it went down. </p>
<p>Because a plan concocted while hight on a mix of cocaine and morphine might seem like a really good one in theory, the fact that you’re still influenced by a drug that will eventually cause you to come down with a crash meant that the plans were by the early morning hours the furthest  thing from my mind and remained so until late afternoon the next day when I realised that I must have misplaced them and was now unable to figure out where. </p>
<p>I ransacked the whole apartment to no avail and feared that I might have taken them with me while out arranging for my next fix. The problem was that I had no recollection of where I had been and I was unable to backtrack my steps from the previous night. I didn’t even remember the theft itself or how I got from London back to Cambridge. So by evening I had to accept defeat and realise that I had no idea of how to retrieve the stolen plans and there was no other choice but to come clean to Mycroft.”</p>
<p>John pulled a face at those words.</p>
<p>“That must have been tough.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it was brutal. Until a year ago it was the most humiliating thing I’ve ever experienced, and he has never missed an opportunity to remind me of it,” Sherlock grimly concluded.</p>
<p>“I must say that it doesn’t sound like you at all, misplacing something so important. Even in that chaotic room of yours there is some degree of order to the mess.”</p>
<p>Sherlock sighed and shrugged his shoulders.</p>
<p>“Well, I can only say that with the level of narcotics running through my blood stream that night, I’m surprised I even managed to steal those damn plans in the first place. That I misplaced them afterwards was truly unfortunate though.”</p>
<p>“I see. He got in trouble then, I take it?”</p>
<p>“Well, no. Telling his superiors about any of this was not an option we ever contemplated. Stealing plans of national importance is considered treason and will end you up behind bars for many years and that simply wasn’t an alternative for us. So instead, we came up with a plan of our own.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like a recipe for disaster…” John muttered and crossed his arms over his chest to keep himself warm. He had no idea how long he had been out here, first with Victor and now with Sherlock, but his limbs were beginning to feel the effect of being exposed to the chill outside. Wearing boxers and a T-shirt had clearly been a mistake and if he didn’t end up with a cold on account of it, he would be surprised. </p>
<p>But at the same time he was very reluctant to leave now that Sherlock was finally confiding in him. </p>
<p>And what a story.</p>
<p> It just kept getting more complicated by the second. A quick thought of his own life in his late teens made him realise that he had never experienced anything even remotely similar to what Sherlock was telling him now.</p>
<p>Sherlock had stopped walking once again and this time he sighed, drawing a hand through his wind-swept curls as if bracing himself of what was to come. </p>
<p>“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. There was no copy of the plans, hence their huge importance. But my brother has been blessed with an eidetic memory, not to mention the fact that he had spent several hours studying these documents until I stole them, so naturally he knew what they looked like. So we decided that instead of coming clean to his superiors, we were going to produce a forgery of the plans and then replace the original version with our fake one. “</p>
<p>“Oh God…” John groaned and drew a hand across his face in exasperation. Because only Sherlock would see the benefits of fixing a problem by complicating it even more.</p>
<p>And sure enough Sherlock gave him a surprised look.</p>
<p>“What? It was a surprisingly good forgery and if you didn’t know that you were looking at a fake, you would not be able to tell that it was. We would hardly do it if we didn’t expect to pull it off! And as we suspected, none of Mycroft’s colleagues did figure it out. They’re all idiots so that might not have been terribly surprising, but still. “</p>
<p>John rolled his eyes but refrained from saying anything more and Sherlock continued talking.</p>
<p>“So, for the moment things were back to their usual state again and we thought that we had gotten away with it. This mishap actually had the benefit of scaring me straight for a little while, making me promise  to behave from now on, and as we tried to put the whole incident behind us, I began focusing om my studies again.</p>
<p>Around the same time I decided that ending things with Victor might be advisable, so I did that as well.”</p>
<p>John thought of the Victor he had been presented with, the unhinged tone to everything he said and did, and he couldn’t help but snort at the image of Victor dealing with a break-up.</p>
<p>“How did that go down?”</p>
<p>“If you think he is a possessive lunatic these days you should have seen him the day I told him that I wanted to end things between us. It still ranks as the most awkward experience of my life.”</p>
<p>“I thought you said that you feared that he was going to leave you, not the other way around? What made you change your opinion about him? He wasn’t involved in the theft in any way, was he?”</p>
<p>“He knew that I wanted to stick it to Mycroft and he knew that I was going to do so by stealing something from him, I tend to blabber when I’m hight. But he wasn’t with me when I did it, he had no part in the actual theft. And you’re right, I did fear that he was going to leave me in the beginning, to stop being my friend, but the novelty of having a friend eventually faded when he started showing me sides to his personality that I found difficult to deal with and the friend I had marvelled at in the beginning wasn’t so wonderful in the end.“</p>
<p>Another pause, and then more quietly.</p>
<p>“He was violently jealous and possessive, already back then.”</p>
<p>This caused John’s hackles to immediately rise and without thinking he stopped and put his hands around Sherlock’s arms to stop him moving for a second so he could take a closer look at his face.</p>
<p>“<i>Violently</i> jealous? Did he hit you?”</p>
<p>Sherlock shook his head, haughtiness for a second flashing in his eyes.</p>
<p>“No. He has never laid a hand on me. Not that he would ever be able to. I excel at martial arts, boxing, fencing and can definitely hold my own in a fight. But he was known to turn violent towards those he perceived were flirting with me. He once punched a man just for offering to light my cigarette. He always suspected that I was going to cheat on him behind his back, even if I never displayed any interest in anyone else as long as we were together. It was just a fixation he had, he was completely consumed by the idea and it only grew worse, the more independent I became. You also need to remember that I was a full-time addict by the time things turned sour between us, drugs were what I cared about, not much else.”</p>
<p>“Did he also take them?”</p>
<p>“No, not more than the occasional top off to get him through a night at a club, the recreational use, nothing beyond that. It started like that for me as well, but I had a stronger urge to overindulge while he easily could prevent himself from taking anything for weeks on end. In that regard he was smarter than me, I guess. I was badly prepared for the life he introduced me to and I easily fell into the trap of my own making very quickly.”</p>
<p>John nodded, relieved to hear that no violence had occurred between them at least. He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle the knowledge that Victor had been violent and not rush all the way over to where the bloody hell that bastard was hiding right now, and simply give him a proper trashing.</p>
<p>“So you broke it off. And then what?” he asked instead, doing his best  to sound calm and composed despite feeling anything but, at the moment.</p>
<p>“Well, if we switch back to the subject of the missile plans for a second. As soon as Mycroft and I had solved our little dilemma, I didn’t really care where the original ones had ended up and I suppose I was a little careless as I pretty soon stopped looking for them altogether. Little did I know that I had managed to misplace the plans while visiting my dealer on the night of the theft. He in turn later gave them to Victor who held on to them, not quite sure of what to do with such a gift but still smart enough to realise that one day they might come in handy. </p>
<p>When the dealer came by and presented him with the stolen missile plans Victor was still very bitter and heartbroken about our break-up so he had the surprisingly cunning idea of putting the plans into a zipper bag for preservation, my DNA and fingerprints all over them and then put the whole thing away for safekeeping until he knew how to use this ticking bomb to his best advantage. </p>
<p>He never threatened me with his knowledge of what I had done because he probably realised that no one would believe him anyway. Nine people out of ten would distrust such a ridiculous story, but when brought to the attention of that tenth individual who actually knows how to deal with that kind of information, it can change everything. And in my case, that person was Charles Magnussen.”</p>
<p>John frowned, remembering the creepy man with the spectacles he had met at the dinner party. In what way was he involved in all of this?</p>
<p>“Officially Charles Magnussen is a Danish media mogul conducting his business in many countries all over the world, very powerful but pretty anonymous to the general public.  But just like Mycroft there is a huge difference between his official persona and what he really gets up to, behind the scenes. </p>
<p> He is a man who mainly deals in information, the delicate kind, the type that creates scandals, ruins people’s lives, forces those with high positions in society to resign. </p>
<p>He can control certain members of Government because he has gotten hold of some scandalous piece of gossip that he uses to blackmail them into doing his bidding. It’s a well-kept secret unknown to most people but common knowledge to those who know about these things. Like my brother for example. </p>
<p>Magnussen has been moving in the periphery of Mycroft’s world for years, prodding and poking at the people who run this country, usually with more than one finger in the game when a scandal is shocking the nation. That’s the kind of man that Charles Magnussen is.”</p>
<p>With a frown of confusion, John shook his head.</p>
<p>“I had never heard of him until I met him last Saturday.”</p>
<p>“No, he usually works by pulling the strings from the shadows, most people don’t know him as anything beyond that Scandinavian media tycoon who owns a lot of our gossip rags as well as a right-winged news channel that runs 24-7 with nothing but pre-ordered propaganda in favour of those who follows Magnussen’s orders and keeps his businesses afloat. </p>
<p>I don’t know how he and Victor came in contact with each other, I’ve never been able to figure it out. After I broke it off with Victor at the beginning of my second year a university he had already graduated and left Cambridge to go work with his father, so I found it easy to cease all further communication with him to pursue a career as a full-time addict instead, never once wasting as much as minute to reminisce about the time we had shared. </p>
<p>Mycroft also helped me in preventing him from seeking me out and cause trouble. </p>
<p>The last thing Victor yelled at me over the phone was that he was going to find out who the person I was replacing him with was, and then he was going to kill him. </p>
<p>As I wasn’t sleeping with anyone such a threat didn’t really bother me, but I kept my eye out for him for a few weeks after that phone call, just in case he was going to show up and cause a scene. He never came though and eventually he faded into the past and I forgot about him. </p>
<p>But he, as I was later informed of, never forgot about me, and he held on to some deluded idea that he and I were meant for each other. As he was not able to achieve that result on his own, he apparently decided to find someone who could help him arrange it for him. </p>
<p>I have no idea how he got wind of Magnussen in particular, how he knew that Magnussen was the one who could help him achieve his goals, but about a year ago Mycroft was approached by Magnussen with a very shocking proposition that basically made us realise that we had not gotten away with our little scheme. “</p>
<p>“Oh, I can just imagine how that must have gone down with your brother…someone trying to blackmail him… He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would willingly comply to other people’s demands.”</p>
<p>John could just picture Mycroft’s face, the look of distaste at being approached with something as lowly as a threat of blackmail, and then the realisation that the situation most likely was far more serious than he had initially understood.</p>
<p>“Mycroft knew enough about Magnussen to know that he would never make such a claim if he didn’t actually have something to back up it up with,” Sherlock said. “I don’t think Magnussen even needed to show the actual missile plans, Mycroft knew he spoke the truth the second he mentioned them. So from that moment on, we were trapped.</p>
<p>If Mycroft didn’t comply to his terms, Magnussen would inform his superiors of what we had done. I would end up in jail for stealing state secrets and Mycroft would most likely join me on account of the forgery as well as aiding and abetting a crime. He would also lose his position for helping me out. In his eyes I think that’s even worse than ending up behind bars.”</p>
<p>“And what did Magnussen want in return for keeping this a secret?”</p>
<p>Sherlock had stopped walking now and was once again facing the black surface of the lake where a lonely mallard was swimming, occasionally dipping its head beneath the surface, searching for something edible. </p>
<p>The moon was gone behind the clouds and it was difficult to make out Sherlock’s facial features properly, he looked more like a shadow with his dark clothes on, the hair blowing in the cold wind coming from behind their backs. </p>
<p>The barrack was now on the other side of the lake and John wondered if they would make it all the way round before the story came to end. It kept getting more complicated with every word uttered and he still had the feeling that he wasn’t grasping even half of it.</p>
<p>He was so lost in his thoughts that when Sherlock finally spoke, he started from the sound of his voice.</p>
<p> “Initially he told Mycroft that he was acting on the behalf of a third party who was the one in charge of setting the rules we needed to submit to. And the first arrangement was for me to accept a marriage proposal from Victor Trevor.</p>
<p>You can just image our shock when we heard this and realised who it was that had put Magnussen in our path. A man I had a long time ago stopped thinking about, someone so deeply buried in my past that I had difficulty believing the news when Mycroft told me of it afterwards. Initially I even thought it was all just a really bad joke. </p>
<p>Magnussen had a few stipulations of his own as well of course but as Victor had been the provider of the damning evidence, he was the one who made the first demands. The agreement, beyond my hand in matrimony, was Mycroft’s compliance to the whole arrangement as well as being lenient with a few other things Magnussen had set his eyes upon. If anything, I think Magnussen was willing to play intermediary instead of instigator simply because it presented him with an opportunity to finally stick it to the impenetrable Mycroft Holmes. He is otherwise much more in charge of the deals he makes, not working as some sort of middleman.</p>
<p>To summarize things, the whole situation naturally caught both me and Mycroft by shock and then despair when we realised the trap we were actually caught in. </p>
<p>If Victor had been acting on his own, Mycroft would likely had made the process a short one by eliminating him from the game all together, but Magnussen is a far more dangerous opponent and as he is the one who now has the original missile plans as well as Victor’s testimony to confirm that it happened the way it did, our hands are pretty much tied.”</p>
<p>Sherlock now turned to face John again, sticking his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, shivering a little bit. From the cold or from sheer frustration was difficult to tell.</p>
<p>“So there you have it – a story that began with a night of thoughtless mischief performed by a teenager high on cocaine that then ended with Mycroft and me trapped in this intricate scheme that we have no way of freeing ourselves from.  </p>
<p>And believe me, in the beginning we tried everything we could to get out of this mess. But to no avail. I’m still destined to marry Victor in less than two months and there is nothing to be done about it.”</p>
<p>John shook his head as he was still trying to come to terms with this new shocking turn of events. It still didn’t make any sense to him how someone like Victor had suddenly managed to get the upper hand in a situation he seemed too stupid to come up with of his own. That he had stumbled upon Magnussen had been his blessing, but what was Magnussen’s true motive with helping out?</p>
<p>“There must be something more for Magnussen to gain from all of this?” he asked. “Why would he be interested in helping someone like Victor getting his boyfriend back and arrange for some sort of forced marriage? What would be the incentive for him to get involved? A rich media tycoon like him dabbling with some sort of unrequited love affair?”</p>
<p>Sherlock sighed.</p>
<p>“Well, turns out that Magnussen had his own agenda for wanting to help out, beyond sticking it to Mycroft. </p>
<p>When Victor initially approached him, he became curious of why Victor showed such an obsessive interest in me, so he did a little research and as he soon realised that I was Mycroft Holmes’s younger brother it turned into an opportunity too good to overlook. </p>
<p>After realising our family connection, he arranged to have our paths cross at an event to get a look at “what the fuss was all about”, as he later so eloquently put it. He liked what he saw and decided to put his own spin on the negotiation, without Victor’s knowledge.</p>
<p>So an additional part of the deal that he struck with Mycroft was that he would be allowed visitational rights to my bed until the actual wedding day, without Victor’s knowledge of course, and I was not allowed to complain, I had do what he told me to do and I was never allowed to run away, reject him, show my displeasure or otherwise break any of the many rules he forced us to accept if we wanted Mycroft’s superiors continuing to be kept in the dark about any of this.”</p>
<p>With a wave of horror hitting him forcefully when hearing this, John couldn’t help but lash out.</p>
<p>“But that’s sexual abuse! How could you agree to any of this? How could Mycroft? You’re his brother!”</p>
<p>Sherlock tried to calm him down by grabbing his arms as he spoke, doing his best to prevent John from going completely off the rails now that the most damning part of the revelation was out in the open.</p>
<p>“Didn’t you just hear what I said?  There is no other way, our hands are tied. None of us are prepared to accept the alternative, a life spent in prison, so this is what we have been forced to agree upon. </p>
<p>When I’m married to Victor, Mycroft will no longer be held under any obligation to do Magnussen’s bidding and the missile plans will be returned to Victor. He will keep them as a guarantee that I won’t divorce him, but Magnussen will be off our backs at least. He is a terrible presence in our lives but luckily a fleeting one.</p>
<p>As I was the one who put us in this situation to begin with, it might serve me right that I remain chained to Victor for the rest of my life. Better than going to prison, I think. Infinitely better than Mycroft going to prison, he wouldn’t survive a day. </p>
<p>Magnussen’s nightly visits will stop after the wedding, so there is always that to look forward as well.”</p>
<p>John still felt himself reeling from the onslaught of information he had received and anger was rapidly rising inside of him. Because suddenly Magnussen’s creepiness increased with the force of an avalanche crashing down over him and those sinister paintings he had seen at Magnussen’s flat, the dark shadowy spectre reaching out for a young man’s throat, suddenly held a completely different meaning to him. A part of him also felt anger towards Sherlock who so readily seemed to have come to terms with his fate. '</p>
<p>So in his anger he lashed out at him, voice raised in an angry tone.</p>
<p>“So to put it simply, you have turned a real prison sentence that would likely have given you a few years at the most behind bars, in exchange for a lifetime as a prisoner to Victor, with him as your own personal jailer? I still don’t understand how Mycroft is agreeing to any of this? And why are <i>you</i>?”</p>
<p>“Mycroft didn’t at first, I had to persuade him to go along with it and I kept telling him that I was going to find a way out of it. As I pointed out earlier, he wouldn’t last a day in a prison and even if he miraculous managed to do so, his life would be ruined once he got out. Everything he’s worked for, his reputation, his position, his power, it would all be gone. In the circles where he moves you can’t come back from what constitutes as treason. And I couldn’t have that on my conscience.”</p>
<p>“But you were a bloody teenager! High on cocaine for God’s sake! Surely that would be considered justifying circumstances?”</p>
<p>“Not if you consider what was stolen and the fact that we tried to hide our crime afterwards by creating a forgery.  I was not a minor when I committed the theft, even if I was very young and I was not affected by drugs when we agreed to create the forgery. Mycroft was definitely an adult and we both knew what we were doing. The fact that we never managed to locate the missing plans is also something that weighs against us in this case. In the eyes of the law we were lucky they ended up in Victor’s hands, as the alternative could have been much worse. </p>
<p>The sentence for treason is life in prison and even if we somehow could have managed to convince a judge that it was all a terrible mistake made on account of young age, stupidity and under influence of substance abuse, a maximum penalty would not be a surprising outcome, 25 years perhaps, if not more. I would rather sit in a prison with Victor as my jailor than rot away, knowing that I not only managed to ruin my own life but Mycroft’s as well. Victor I can handle. I detest him but I can handle him. It’s Magnussen that I truly can’t stomach.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Sherlock....” John took the younger man in his arms and held him tightly, inhaling his warmth, his unique scent, his fingers cradling through those glossy soft curls, “I don’t know what to say.....”</p>
<p>They stayed quiet for a long time, John just holding his arms cradling Sherlock’s thin frame, wishing none of this was actually happening but at the same time realising that whishing for things to be different wouldn’t change anything. </p>
<p>When Sherlock finally spoke, his voice was very quiet, almost more like a whisper.</p>
<p>“No need to say anything except that you won’t abandon me?”</p>
<p>“Of course not! I would never....not after what you just told me....”</p>
<p>He searched for Sherlock’s lips and kissed them softly. They were cold but when connecting with his, he felt a warmth settling inside his chest and fell even deeper into their kiss. As he finally broke off to get some air he tried looking into the dark bottomless orbs that constituted the younger man’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he whispered, his hands fisting the collar of the black coat Sherlock wore, for a second almost angry for being kept in the dark from all of this.</p>
<p>Despite the difficulty to see his eyes properly, John could sense that Sherlock looked resigned when he answered.</p>
<p>“Well, mostly because I pretty soon began to fear for your safety. You have heard what I have told you about Victor, and about Magnussen, and you have also had the displeasure of actually meeting them. Surely you realise how reckless it would have been of me to drag you into this mess. And now I have gone ahead and done it anyway.”</p>
<p>“You needed to tell me, for me to understand what you were dealing with. Why you acted the way you did. Don’t blame yourself any more than you already are.”</p>
<p>Another kiss, then a soft caress of a cold pale cheek before another thought hit him.</p>
<p>“When I spoke to Victor earlier he was clearly taken by surprise when I told him about my resignation. Why had he not been informed earlier? Would that not have prevented him from coming after me tonight?”</p>
<p>“We wanted to keep your resignation a secret for a little while longer. When he asked Mycroft why you weren’t at the house, tending for me, Mycroft came up with some sort of desperate lie to prevent further questioning.”</p>
<p>“But why? Surely he already suspects something is going on between us?”</p>
<p>Sherlock shook his head.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think so. The thing about Victor is that he theoretically is very jealous and suspect everyone of trying to steal me away from him, he watches my every move like a hawk and thinks that an act of infidelity is bound to happen at any second. </p>
<p>But now, when it actually has happened, he has failed to catch on. He’s gullible that way, when he finally has cause for concern, he is blind to it. He might suspect something, but he doesn’t know for sure. You’re still just a threat like any other man I might associate with.”</p>
<p>“He has made several suggestions that he knows something is going on between us. Not to mention the fact that he pointed a gun at me…”</p>
<p>“But that’s all there is to it, suggestions. If he knew for certain, trust me, we would know about it by now. I hate to put clichés in my mouth but in this case it is justified to point out that if he ever found out, he would try to kill you. That’s why Magnussen’s arrangement with me is kept a secret as well. </p>
<p>Magnussen normally doesn’t care about discretion, no one ever gets to him so he does what he wants without any concerns for other people’s feelings. But he knows how unhinged Victor is, so in this particular case his visits are conducted by reaching out to Mycroft who informs him if it is a good time to stop by or not. Or at least that was the arrangement until lately. For the past couple of weeks he has begun turning up announced and he has switched his game up a bit, become more gruesome, more brutal. If anyone knows about my relationship with you, then it’s Magnussen. That’s why I have decided to make a last effort to take him down.”</p>
<p>Sherlock turned silent for a moment, allowing those words to sink in, looking deeply into John’s eyes before he continued.</p>
<p>“What if I was to tell you that there might still actually be a chance for us to gain our freedom back and get out of this game unharmed?”</p>
<p>John’s eyes widened and there was a glimmer of hope surging inside of him.</p>
<p>“Is there or are you simply trying to evoke hope in me?”</p>
<p>“It might be very dangerous and there is a huge risk that we won’t succeed in our efforts. And if we fail, he will come after you. Magnussen. That’s why I hesitated for so long to bring you into it. I would hate for him to ruin your life as well.”</p>
<p>John contemplated those words, looked at Sherlock’s concerned face, thought back on everything he had been told tonight and what he had been through these past couple of weeks. </p>
<p>Hell, what he had been through for the past couple of years, chasing the adrenaline high of a life of danger and peril as if his life depended on it. Because hadn’t there always been that element of adventure that tickled his senses, made him rush head first into action? So why stop now when things were truly turning dark and twisted?</p>
<p> He nodded and cradled Sherlock’s face between his hands.</p>
<p>“If I turned down helping you, I wouldn’t be able to live with the consequences afterwards, just as you wouldn’t be able to live with them if we fail and Magnussen comes after me. So, the way I see it, not only do I need to help you out this mess, but we also need to make sure that we succeed. That’s the only outcome acceptable to both of us.”</p>
<p>He leaned in and gave Sherlock yet another kiss, deeper this time, reassuring, confident, his heart beating faster in his heart as he thought about what this all meant and how prepared he actually was to go ahead with this, put an end to the terror Sherlock had been through and if possible save him from the clutches of not only Magnussen but Victor as well. </p>
<p>And then....well, who knew.....</p>
<p>As he pulled back once more, he looked at Sherlock staring at him, disbelief still evident in his eyes as if not fully grasping that John was actually ready to throw himself head first into whatever danger lay ahead of them. </p>
<p>John’s mouth twitched at the irony of for once feeling more sure of a situation than Sherlock did.</p>
<p>“So that plan of yours, want to take me through it? I believe we still have a few hours before morning is here, so spare no details and start filling me in,” he said.</p>
<p>He began to walk along the shore back towards the barrack, leaving a baffled Sherlock still standing put, staring at his retreating back.</p>
<p>He then turned his head to look at the other man over his shoulder for a second.</p>
<p>“Coming?” he said, turning his head forward again and smiled as he heard the sound of footsteps across the sand, swiftly approaching from behind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Preparing for battle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Magnussen was looking out through the panoramic window of his office, his reflection in the glass showing a nebulous figure in a grey suit, his glasses gleaming in the sunlight coming from outside as he watched the familiar landmarks of the capital’s well known buildings surrounding his office. </p>
<p>There was that combination of old and new that he, despite his dislike of the country itself, actually appreciated. It reminded him of the endless possibilities he had in a city like London where things like class, reputation and a sullied name still had consequences for a person’s life. </p>
<p>One wrong move and the threat of disgrace was imminent if you got caught.</p>
<p> It was his mission to remind people of that fact, that things could very easily be snatched away from them on account of some thoughtless little deed that had probably seemed insignificant when it happened  but could cause considerable damage if being exposed. </p>
<p>Englishmen in general were such a naive group of people, relying on idiotic conventions like sportsmanship and respect for those in charge. In his own opinion, life was never about playing things fair, it was all about what could be taken from others to strengthen your own position. His more calculating way of looking at things had helped him over the years dealing with these British cretins. </p>
<p>Naturally there were a few exceptions to the rule but in the end he had always managed to ensnare the majority of them as well, as even the most cold-hearted of individuals inevitably had a pressure point and once you found out what that was, it could be used against them. </p>
<p>That no one would ever be able to figure out his own pressure point was of vital importance and he never allowed anyone to get even remotely close to him.</p>
<p>It had taken him a significant amount of time to guess what Mycroft Holmes’s pressure point was, as he, very much like Magnussen himself, was one of those men who seemed like a blank piece of paper even upon a closer inspection. If not for Victor Trevor, it could have taken even longer before finding out was his weakness was. </p>
<p>And what a delectable piece of vulnerability it had turned out to be, Magnussen could feel his mouth salivating at the mere thought of it. </p>
<p>After that initial visit to Sherlock Holmes’s bedroom, where he had been given a first taste of what had driven Victor Trevor off the rails, Magnussen had commissioned a painting that quickly become a favourite of his, to be placed in his London residence as a reminder of what he had, a mere phone call away. </p>
<p>It was the painting he had caught John Watson studying during the dinner party, never recognising the significance of what it portrayed. Well, hardly surprising, Magnussen hadn’t asked for an identical resemblance after all, it would have been a bit too garish even for him, but both Sherlock as well as Mycroft had realised what it depicted when seeing it. </p>
<p>Victor on the other hand, had not. And wasn’t that a blessing. </p>
<p>Cunning and mean-spirited but sometimes dumb as a doorknob, never fully comprehending at what level this game was being conducted. He thought everything had to do with Sherlock and wasn’t interested in anything else. But those missile plans had been about so much more.</p>
<p>Victor Trevor was one of those men Magnussen in reality despised without letting that fact get in the way of conducting business with him.</p>
<p>Weak in his obsession, irrational, needy, allowing his feelings to govern his judgement and generally a difficult man to tolerate even in very small doses. There was something a bit unhinged about him that probably hadn’t been there to begin with, but life must have treated him in a way that had caused the young man to lose his footing of reality a little bit. </p>
<p>But despite his wearisome persona, Magnussen couldn’t deny the lucky circumstances that had caused their paths to cross and how gleeful he had felt that night when the significance of Victor’s story had hit him and the endless possibilities to take advantage of the situation had presented themselves.</p>
<p>Things were soon coming to an end though and Magnussen had already started to think about how he was going to continue keeping Mycroft Holmes under his thumb. </p>
<p>It was a conundrum that he was constantly contemplating  at the back of his mind, because now that he had relished the taste of owning both Holmes brothers, the thought of being deprived that pleasure did not sit well with him. But for now, no further ideas had presented themselves.</p>
<p>The sound of a phone ringing broke the silence in his office and as he saw who the caller was, he supressed a sigh before answering.</p>
<p>Omitting the usual greeting phrases, the caller was firing on all cylinders at once when Magnussen pressed the green button to pick up the call.</p>
<p>“There is something going on with Sherlock and that dragon of a brother is keeping me from seeing him!”</p>
<p>Magnussen walked over to his chair by the desk and seated himself before replying.</p>
<p>“You need to be a little more specific than that, I’m afraid.”</p>
<p>“That’s the problem. I have no idea what it is, but I have not been allowed to see him nor speak to him for days. I haven’t heard a single word since we parted ways after your dinner party. And it appears the doctor has removed himself from the scene quite unexpectedly as well.”</p>
<p>A moment of silence before Magnussen replied, a tone of curiosity colouring his voice as he spoke.</p>
<p>“And how do you know of these sudden turns of events?”</p>
<p>“I....well......” </p>
<p>A second of hesitance before continuing.  Cleary something he didn’t want to fully confess to. </p>
<p>“I talked to Dr Watson myself and he was actually the one who told me about it. He didn’t give away any specific details, said I should talk to Mycroft or Sherlock instead and at first I wasn’t fully convinced that he was telling me the truth, you know how I have never really trusted that man....”</p>
<p>Another pause and Magnussen closed his eyes where he was seated, waiting for the useless prattle to stop and the point of this phone call to be revealed. </p>
<p>It took almost 40 seconds before Victor spoke again.</p>
<p>“When I was denied talking to Sherlock even over the phone, I got in touch with a…well, a <i>contact</i> of mine, attached to the Holmes household, and she confirmed that Dr Watson had indeed stormed out of the house in the early morning hours about a week ago, slamming the door in his wake and had not been seen since then.”</p>
<p>“When was this?”</p>
<p>“She couldn’t specify, but perhaps shortly after your party I assume.”</p>
<p>The question is what he was doing in the house at that hour, Magnussen mused but didn’t say out loud. </p>
<p>“What did you say Sherlock was suffering from?” he asked instead.</p>
<p>“I have no idea. Mycroft is being very shady about the whole thing, says that Sherlock needs his rest, that he isn’t feeling well and so forth. I want you to get through to him that he can’t deny me access to what technically is mine!”</p>
<p>Magnussen leaned back in his chair, contemplating this unexpected turn of events. </p>
<p>Granted, Sherlock had clearly been off his game during the dinner party last Saturday, displaying many of the classical signs of substance abuse, which given his history as an addict and the current circumstances were not that surprising and yet, that funny little man Dr Watson, had seemed completely oblivious to it. </p>
<p>Too preoccupied with hiding his feelings, no doubt, the tension between him and Trevor had been obvious for everyone in the room to witness, including those hired to be there for the sake of pretence and with little insight to the intricacies of the supposed love triangle going on between the doctor, his patient’s and the patients possessive fiancé. </p>
<p>There was no true evidence beyond the smitten look in Dr Watson’s eyes, but Magnussen was fairly certain that something must have transgressed between him and Sherlock. </p>
<p>And if that liaison had suddenly come to an end? </p>
<p>Well.....</p>
<p>It could open up opportunities for him to gain even more leverage if he handled this well.</p>
<p>“I’ll call Mycroft to see what he has to say,” he said and then ended the call without waiting for Victor’s response. </p>
<p>This was indeed an interesting development. The question was if there was something to be gained from it or not. </p>
<p>Considering John Watson’s strong attachment to his patient and the way he had left his assignment in the middle of the night, not to return again, there was a big chance that there was something to be exploited if he managed to figure out what the situation actually was all about.</p>
<p>He pondered his options for another 30 minutes before he browsed the contacts on his phone until he reached M Holmes and then he pressed dial.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---------------------</p>
</div>Mycroft took a sip of his wine and then leaned back in his chair, looking at his brother over the rim of his raised glass, taking in the pale, thin form on the other side of the table.<p>“I must admit that I didn’t think you would be able to pull it off. Too many unknown factors to take into consideration, the doctor’s temper certainly being one of those unpredictable elements. You should have seen him in the car the other day, he was positively spitting with venom towards me.”</p>
<p>“Well, you tend to invoke that reaction in people.” </p>
<p>“How droll…” Mycroft rolled his eyes and put his glass down. “He was very agitated and adamant that he would never return to this house ever again, that I was somehow to blame for your impending marriage to Victor and that the wedding should immediately be cancelled or it would lead to your untimely death. It was all rather morbid to listen to, like some fortune-teller crowing about all the evil that was going to befall us. That man has some serious anger-management issues if you ask me.”</p>
<p>“Yes, he is a man governed by his emotions to a surprisingly large degree. How normal people manage to function in their daily life while being constant victims to their feelings and whims is beyond me.”</p>
<p>“And yet, the concept of <i>feelings</i> does not seem too alien to you these days, little brother. He did after all manage to worm his way into what I always thought was a hollow cavity but instead turned out to be the equivalent of a beating heart buried inside of you. I don’t believe I have seen that side of you for years. Not since…Well, no need to get into that, we all know how that ended.”</p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a pointed look and then nodded towards the overflowing plates on the table.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should concentrate on things that you are familiar with instead of venturing off on topics you haven’t the faintest idea of,” he muttered and pushed a terrine of smoked salmon and steamed vegetables towards Mycroft. “You know what our mother used to say: “If your words doesn’t improve the state of silence, shut your mouth and stay quiet.”</p>
<p>Mycroft frowned.</p>
<p>“I never heard her say that.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you were too busy listening to the sound of your own voice to hear someone else talking…”</p>
<p>Mycroft snorted and took a large helping from the offered terrine while he allowed his brother’s childish taunts to wash off him. After a few minutes of silent chewing he turned back to the topic of John Watson again.</p>
<p> “I suppose I should offer my congratulations for your ability to turn the doctor to aid us in our cause, instead of leaving you to your own devices. That is a considerable advantage. For now, at least.”</p>
<p>“A compliment from the man who would rather drink poison than acknowledge that his little brother could be the one to finally crack our dilemma with Magnussen? That might actually deserve a toast.”</p>
<p>Sherlock reached for his untouched glass and took a small sip without actually performing said toast. Alcohol had never been his preferred vice, always opting for other stimulants, but occasionally he could be seen drinking a glass or two.  </p>
<p>Mycroft raised his own glass in his brother’s direction before taking a sip as well.<br/>As he allowed the pleasant vintage Sauvignon Blanc to satisfy his palate, a thought struck him.</p>
<p>“You do realise that you went through all that trouble of convincing him of your drug addiction for naught now that he’s loyally back by your side?”</p>
<p>Sherlock played with a piece of salmon on his plate without actually eating anything and didn’t look at his brother as he spoke.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t a complete waste of time, I needed him to break his ties with me and as he isn’t a very good actor, this was by far the preferable option. I couldn’t have asked for a better scene than him storming out of here in real anger instead of putting up some stale performance later on to convince people of our newly developed animosity. I think it was quite worth the small effort I had to make, in order for that result to be achieved. <br/>By now, Magnussen must have heard something about it and is most likely looking for the right opportunity to approach what he thinks is going to be a very nettled ex-lover.”</p>
<p>“It can hardly have been a pleasant experience, though?” Mycroft insisted. “The eye-drops to make your pupils shrink, the pill that caused your heart rate to slow down, not to mention being injected with Narcan afterwards, throwing up all over the place, including my favourite pair of slippers. That’s a lot of theatrics even for someone like you.” </p>
<p>Sherlock had begun arranging the food on his plate in small heaps according to colour on his plate and didn’t look at his brother when he calmly replied.</p>
<p>“How do you know I actually went to all that trouble? Maybe I just decided to take the actual stuff instead, to save myself from going through the hassle of faking an overdose?”</p>
<p>Mycroft’s eyes immediately narrowed.</p>
<p>“You’re jesting.....”</p>
<p>Sherlock turned his eyes to look at him, his head slightly tilted.</p>
<p>“Can you be absolutely sure? As you are so fond of constantly reminding everyone, no one deceives like an addict…..”</p>
<p>Their eyes locked, Mycroft trying to figure out if his brother was having him on or if he had actually gone against his very firm instructions and taken the drug instead of playacting like they had agreed upon. </p>
<p>Unfortunately his brother’s face conveyed no clue to collaborate either option, he just stared right back, a glimmer in his eyes that could mean that he was laughing at Mycroft for falling for his ruse or because he had actually been able to trick Mycroft by going against his orders. There was no way to prove either theory right now.</p>
<p>Mycroft frowned in frustrations as he turned his eyes away and speared a Brussel sprout with his fork, angrily jamming it into his mouth.  <i>Damn little brother and his infernal teasing </i></p>
<p>If he was later able to confirm that any real substances had been used, his brother was going to dearly regret having made that choice. </p>
<p>Sherlock sighed and slid further down in his chair, continuing to poke listlessly at his food, no longer bothering with the colour-arrangement. But despite his somewhat lacklustre appearance he was in a fairly good mood. </p>
<p>After his nightly excursion with John Watson, the true plotting had finally begun, and things had already been set in motion. And once again Victor had been the one to provide the help just when they needed it.</p>
<p>For starters, it had been immensely helpful that he had decided confront John last night, as it had presented Sherlock with the perfect opportunity to arrange his own meeting with John soon after. </p>
<p>The whole gun wielding incident had been unfortunate though and it spoke loudly of the irrational mood Victor was currently suffering from at the moment. </p>
<p>Naturally Victor had been in touch with Mycroft again, the very next morning, this time phoning instead of showing up at the house, but the result had been more or less the same. </p>
<p>Without saying too much, Mycroft had hinted that Sherlock was still feeling unwell and was bedridden, unfortunately making it impossible for Victor to stop by for a visit and this had clearly displeased Victor very much. </p>
<p>Whenever Victor was deprived of Sherlock’s company, he turned slightly hysterical and unruly, making all kinds of demands that Mycroft had to bite himself in the tongue not to acerbically reply to.  </p>
<p>How Sherlock had ever managed to stomach the company of this whiny idiot was beyond him, it said something about his brother’s adaptable patience, a part of Sherlock’s personality that Mycroft normally considered to be non-existent. </p>
<p>“I demand to see him!” Victor had almost shrieked over the phone while Mycroft had gritted his teeth in frustration before replying. </p>
<p>“He isn’t feeling very well, Victor. He is sleeping most of the time, he needs his rest….”</p>
<p>“But I don’t understand, what’s ailing him? He was perfectly fine the last time I saw him!”</p>
<p>That Sherlock had been far from fine at Magnussen’s dinner party had apparently managed to slip Victor’s attention, a surprising feat in itself considering how he monitored Sherlock’s every move with the eagerness of a predator watching its prey, but Mycroft had always been aware that Victor seriously lacked any talent in the intelligence department so maybe it wasn’t surprising that he only managed to see things from his own very limited point of view and probably thought that just because he had enjoyed Magnussen’s atrocious dinner arrangement, Sherlock must have enjoyed it as well. </p>
<p>The fact that Victor held an invisible dagger constantly pressed to his fiancé’s throat in the form of his blackmailing threat seemed to be of no consequence to him. </p>
<p>In his delusional and limited way of looking at the situation, the only thing that mattered was that Sherlock belonged to him and how Sherlock felt was of no particular interest.</p>
<p>Sherlock had fought their arrangement quite aggressively in the beginning, lashing out at Victor, trying to break him down. </p>
<p>He had threatened him with all kinds of elaborate punishments, but eventually he had realised that as long as Magnussen was holding the reins it didn’t matter if they managed to get rid of Victor, Magnussen would most likely just change the stipulations according his own agenda and in the end that might mean something even worse than what they were facing now. </p>
<p>With Victor, at least they knew what they were dealing with. </p>
<p>The man was a whining idiot with serious jealousy issues, but other than that he was relatively harmless and with the forgiving trait of actually loving Sherlock very much in his own egotistical sort of way.</p>
<p> It had naturally been tempting to make him disappear. Mycroft had many times fantasized about doing just that as he had the means to pull it off if he wanted to, but the problem of Magnussen still remained, and that man was a whole other level of difficulty. </p>
<p>If Mycroft had gone ahead with ridding himself of Victor, if only for the satisfaction of seeing his brother liberated from his fiancé’s smothering clutches, Magnussen would immediately have been able to discern Mycroft’s fingerprints all over that incident. </p>
<p>No, it was better to stick to the danger you knew instead of being thrown into something completely unknown. </p>
<p>There was always a risk that Magnussen would want Sherlock for himself if Victor was removed from the scene and that fate was even more terrible to contemplate than the current one. </p>
<p>It was enough for Mycroft to know that what Magnussen subjected his brother to during his nightly visits to his bedroom was probably so horrible it made him sick even thinking about it. </p>
<p>Mycroft had never plucked up the courage to ask Sherlock directly about those visits but he had seen some of the marks on his brother’s body afterwards which had caused his stomach to turn and made him silently swear to end that man once and for all one day. </p>
<p>The problem was that Magnussen was not the usual kind of foe who did bad things that could easily be linked to him. As the man himself always claimed, he was only a businessman, nothing more, however nasty the nature of his business actually was, and it was difficult to pin true criminal activities on him. </p>
<p>He kept all his secrets and blackmailing material in some sort of vault that only he had the ability to gain access to. Both Sherlock as well as Mycroft had tried it a few times but all their efforts had been unsuccessful so far. </p>
<p>In the beginning Sherlock had even put his seductive skills to use in an effort to persuade Magnussen into giving the missile plans back, but it had ended with humiliation, Magnussen laughing in his face as he had petted those black curls while whispering that anything Sherlock had to offer, he could get for free anyway and the opportunity to own Mycroft was too good to give up.</p>
<p>Sherlock had reacted badly to the taunt and had lashed out, trying to inflict some physical damage to the man, but all it had earned him was a gruesome retaliation the next time Magnussen came by. </p>
<p>Sherlock had experienced difficulty sitting down for a whole week afterwards, large angry welts covering his buttocks as well as the lower part of his back. </p>
<p>“I’m not against the aspect of punishment, dear Sherlock, if you give me enough incentive to do so,” Magnussen had said, a smile playing on his lips as his hand had wielded yet another blow against the already sore surface of Sherlock’s body.</p>
<p>Luckily Victor had been away on a business trip at the time or he would have noticed the result of that punishment, and all hell would have broken lose.</p>
<p>During that time, Mycroft had felt close to despair and despite his constant effort to remain logical and in control under all circumstances, he had been close to losing it himself afterwards, when seeing his brother’s bleeding skin.</p>
<p>But now, a small glimmer of hope had finally materialised itself in their bleak situation and surprisingly it was John Watson who held the key to their dilemma.</p>
<p> It was too early to feel the taste of real victory but at least there might actually be a chance to neutralize Magnussen now and get Sherlock out of the marriage arrangements. </p>
<p>It was all very precarious and as he had mentioned, many factors were still somewhat unstable, but at least there was some hope now, even if he realised that the feeling of disappointment would hit them harder if they failed now, this close to the finish line.  </p>
<p>Mycroft patted the corners of lips with his napkin after clearing his plate and took another sip of his wine before he turned his attention back on his brother.</p>
<p>“Are you sure that he knows what it is that you need from him, your precious doctor? It’s quite a lot to ask for. He isn’t, as you already pointed out, a great actor and he’s is too governed by feelings, so for him to deal with a man like Magnussen....”</p>
<p>“We have been through the larger scheme of it, I’m planning to meet him tomorrow night for a final run-through, then the plan must be set in motion. If we wait any longer, it will be too late.”</p>
<p>That was indeed the case, because after Victor’s unexpected, armed visit to John Watson’s barrack, followed by his impatient phone call to Mycroft this morning, the man’s patience was slowly beginning to snap. And whenever Victor’s patience came to an end, he turned to Magnussen in an effort for him to solve any deadlock. While doing so, he had revealed that Dr Watson was no longer working for the Holmes’s. </p>
<p>It had not taken long for Magnussen to approach a staff member from Mycroft’s household to confirm Dr Watson’s absence, as well as reveal the details of his angry departure, the door forcefully slammed in his wake and his absence ever since. </p>
<p>It was the same contact Victor believed was keeping him updated on the same piece of information, as staff members could always be relied on to be the best sources for gossip, but since Mycroft had long ago turned this particular mole into a member of his own team, he was well aware that both Victor and Magnussen were by now fully up to date with the state between Sherlock and his doctor. </p>
<p>The benefit  of having a person working as a double agent in this manner was so far the only upper hand Mycroft had managed to achieve in his war against Magnussen though and as far as result went, it wasn’t much. But finally the situation might actually be looking brighter if John Watson managed to play his part in their favour from now on.</p>
<p> No less than an hour after Victor had spoken to Mycroft, enemy number two had made the expected phone call as well.</p>
<p>“I hear dear Sherlock is feeling unwell, whatever is the matter with him? Victor is quite upset about his inability to see his fiancé…” Magnussen had smoothly said and Mycroft had given him the same kind of vague answer that he had offered Victor, knowing full well that Magnussen had the wits about him to know that Mycroft was hiding something and would put his focus on figuring out what it could be. </p>
<p>The seed about Sherlock possibly suffering from a drug addiction had already been planted earlier and had resulted in Magnussen’s first suspicions at the dinner party. He did after all know about Sherlock’s past as an addict and knew what a slippery-slope such cravings could turn into.</p>
<p>His curiosity about Sherlock’s true state of health combined with the rumours of a falling out with his doctor and possible lover would force Magnussen into action soon enough. </p>
<p>Hopefully. </p>
<p>A bedridden Sherlock, deprived of his precious confidant, would make him look exposed in Magnussen’s eyes and while his attention would be on Sherlock’s wavering health, Magnussen would also see the opportunity to continue keeping both Mycroft and Sherlock under his thumb by approaching the person who had just suffered a falling-out with the Holmes brothers and probably had all sorts of information to share with him if offered the right price or the proper threat, whatever would produce the best result.<br/>The plan was for Mycroft to be so vague about the whole situation that Magnussen would do as Victor had done, minus the gun and the threats of course, and turn to John Watson for answers instead.</p>
<p> John in turn would give the same reply that he had given Victor, but a more elaborate version, allowing the disagreement between him and Sherlock and his drug abuse shine through in his narrative. </p>
<p>Mycroft realised that it would be easier for John to fake indignation over a drug abuse if he actually thought there was real one happening, so in a way he knew Sherlock had been right about fooling John about that particular detail. </p>
<p>But Mycroft also recognised that John wasn’t a man who took being lied to very lightly, whatever the cause for it. </p>
<p>Sherlock really needed to tread lightly with that man or he would risk aggravating the doctor even further than he had done previously and they could hardly afford a second falling-out.</p>
<p>“Where are you meeting him? I don’t like you sneaking out at night to the barracks, someone could see you.”</p>
<p>“We decided to meet somewhere else this time. There aren’t that many places safe from prying eyes, but it will have to do. He can’t be seen coming here anymore if we have officially fallen out, and as you say, the barracks are hardly that safe either.”</p>
<p>“So, where are you meeting him then?”</p>
<p>“It’s probably better if you don’t know actually.”</p>
<p>Mycroft sighed.</p>
<p>“Must everything you do always be tainted by danger, Sherlock?”</p>
<p>His little brother offered him a wry smile.</p>
<p>“Running from danger is my regular exercise, where else would I get it?”</p>
<p>“Exercise is overrated....” Mycroft muttered, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“Not very surprising that you would think that.”</p>
<p>Mycroft ignored the slight and finished his wine.</p>
<p>“Just promise me that you’ll be careful,” he said, “In the meantime, I suppose I will need to deal with Victor and Magnussen again. News have reached Magnussen’s ears that John Watson is no longer working for us, and also that he is very angry and resentful over how he’s been treated. Magnussen needs to be tempted to reach out to him. Soon.”</p>
<p>Sherlock nodded and rose from the table.</p>
<p>“I assume I will need to be prepared to face Magnussen soon enough myself, perhaps even tonight. He will most likely want to see me with his own eyes if he is going to believe what you and John are telling him regarding my ailing health. He won’t be as easily dismissed as Victor.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I would say he’s probably due here within two hours at the most. So better get prepared, bundle up in that bed of yours and put your acting skills to some good use. Nice to see that they are finally coming in handy, little brother. We are lucky Magnussen isn’t actually a doctor, though, you won’t need to pull off the trickery you needed to fool Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>He nailed his brother with a stern look.</p>
<p>“So don’t even consider indulging in something extra just for the sake of effect. A little bit of poor lighting, perhaps some make up and your own acting skills should suffice this time.”</p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a weak smile and then quietly left the room to prepare himself for Magnussen’s predictable visit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Trying to trick the devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mr Holmes, you don’t usually feel the need to accompany me to your brother’s bedroom.”</p>
<p>“Well, circumstances are different when he is feeling unwell. I would rather prefer it if...”</p>
<p>“If I didn’t visit him at all. Yes, you already told me. But as I’m sure you haven’t forgotten, as long as the missile plans are in my possession, so is your brother. And sick or not, I actually insist on seeing him. I certainly wouldn’t want to believe that either of you would try to deceive me, but to ease my concern, I would want to make sure that he is as indisposed as you tell me. And that he is well taken care of by a professional.”</p>
<p>There was a pause and Magnussen looked at Mycroft, wondering what he was going to say about the obvious absence of Dr Watson. But Mycroft didn’t say anything about it, simply kept his features blank as he led the way to the familiar room where Magnussen had enjoyed so many pleasurable visits.</p>
<p>This time, the situation was different though and he became aware of this even before reaching the bed, noticing the faint smell of disinfectant trying to hide the underlying odour of actual vomit as he entered, his nose twitching in displeasure.</p>
<p>The occupant of the bed was shrouded almost completely in darkness, the lights turned low and his body covered in bed linen and a coverlet, allowing only a very pale face and sweaty curls to be visible.</p>
<p>The cheeks were glowing red and almost glistening from dampness and the eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, indicating that he had trouble filling his lungs with sufficient amount of air and Magnussen stopped a few feet away from the bed to look at the thin form beneath the bedsheets, trying to assess what the cause for this was all about.</p>
<p>He could feel Mycroft’s presence behind his back, and it annoyed him to have the older brother breathing down his neck like some sort of guard when the stipulations made between them clearly stated that he was allowed exclusive access to Sherlock without Mycroft’s interference. </p>
<p>Granted, those rules had been related to sexual activities and those were clearly not going to happen tonight, but it still annoyed him that Mycroft felt the need to be there when he would have wanted to talk to Sherlock alone.</p>
<p>But seeing how close to comatose the younger man was, maybe it was a good thing that his brother was there to answer some questions on his behalf. </p>
<p>“How long has this been going on? And what’s the matter with him? You haven’t been particularly informative towards Victor and he is understandably very upset by being denied access to his fiancé.”</p>
<p>“Victor isn’t denied access out of spite. But my brother is, as you can see for yourself, quite ill and is in no condition to handle any visitors.”</p>
<p>“They are to be married soon enough; Victor is hardly just any random visitor. He should be allowed to see his future husband. Unless there is a reason to keep him away. Is it perhaps contagious?”</p>
<p>He knew with certainty that whatever Sherlock was likely suffering from was not in the least contagious but more an embarrassment for Mycroft to discuss, and yet he couldn’t help but needle the other man when given the opportunity.</p>
<p>And yes, Mycroft did indeed look bothered, but to his credit he managed to keep his composure while speaking.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I don’t know what my brother is suffering from. He is sweating profusely as if running a fever, has a shortness of breath and is awfully tired. He hasn’t been able to eat for several days and only manages small doses of water, so a lot of it is probably down to dehydration. But there is something unknown that has caused this state in the first place and so far we haven’t been able to figure out what it is.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Magnussen shot him a sceptical look, because who did Mycroft imagine that he was trying to fool? His brother was clearly suffering from drug withdrawal or the aftermath from a drug overdose or something else related to narcotics. It was hardly the Dengue fever.</p>
<p> But if Mycroft wanted to continue turning a blind eye to what he probably considered a shameful secret, then fine. Magnussen wasn’t necessarily interested in why Mycroft had such qualms about admitting his brother’s weakness, it was after all a well-known part of his past,  all Magnussen wanted to know was how he could exploit this new development to the best advantage.</p>
<p>“What has his doctor to say about it?” he asked and actually turned his head to take a closer look at Mycroft now.</p>
<p>“Well, it is a complicated affair....”</p>
<p>“How so? Where is Dr Watson by the way? Have you sent him away on account of my visit?”</p>
<p>“Not exactly. There was some disagreement and he is no longer in our employment. I ‘m currently in search of a new physician to take his place.”</p>
<p>“What sort of disagreement? I thought he and your brother got along splendidly? Was it on account of Victor and his jealousy perhaps?”</p>
<p>“No, why on earth would that be a problem for anyone besides Mr Trevor?” Mycroft had a tone of annoyance in his voice now. “It doesn’t really matter why the arrangement was ended, Dr Watson is hardly the first one to leave and he isn’t the only available doctor out there. I have plenty of other candidates.”</p>
<p>“Maybe that was what bothered him? No one likes to feel easily replaced.”</p>
<p>“Well, not everyone can be unique enough to not suffer such an outcome occasionally. Have you seen enough now, Mr Magnussen?”</p>
<p>Magnussen turned away from Mycroft to look at Sherlock’s silent form.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think I have actually. I would like to have a moment alone with your brother despite his somewhat listless state. Don’t worry, I won’t subject him to what I usually put him through, I like my participants to be a little more lively than what I imagine he is capable of at the moment. It is a pity though, I was so looking forward to enjoying him rather shortly. Do you think this state will last much longer?”</p>
<p>As he was still facing Sherlock, and Mycroft was positioned behind his back, he couldn’t actually see Mycroft’s face, but he could very well imagine the cold rage crossing his features right now.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I can offer you no answer to that. I’m not a medical man and have no idea how long he will remain like this. For his sake, I hope it will turn better soon enough.”</p>
<p>“Yes, let’s indeed hope so, as he has a wedding to attend and a worried fiancé to take care of. Might I suggest that Victor will be granted the right to visit as well? I’m sure it would be beneficial for you as well as for me to not have him calling incessantly at all hours until he gets his way. And as Sherlock is only lying here anyway...”</p>
<p>“I’ll allow you your privacy, Mr Magnussen. When you are done, kindly show yourself out. I have other pressing matters to attend to and unfortunately not a lot of time to spare. Good evening.”</p>
<p>He could hear the other man’s passive aggressive footsteps disappear behind his back and when they were gone, he took a few steps forward to take a closer look at Sherlock who had yet to move a muscle.</p>
<p>Upon closer inspection he saw details that he had failed to notice earlier.</p>
<p>There were dark crusts on Sherlock’s lips and there was an incessant twitching beneath the coverlet, assumingly from his hands that were hidden underneath.</p>
<p>And, as if sensing Magnussen’s presence in the room, he suddenly opened his eyes, dark feverish hollows inside that gaunt, pale face, the skin glistening from sweat. He actually looked like he was dying.</p>
<p>They stared at each other for a few minutes in silence before Magnussen decided to be the one to talk first.</p>
<p>“Have you’ve been a naughty boy, Sherlock?”</p>
<p>“Would seem like it, Mr Magnussen.”</p>
<p>His voice sounded like a raspy croak, probably dry from being unused as well as a lack of fluids. His spirit wasn’t broken yet though, even in this state he managed to sound almost haughty, going against the terrible state of his appearance.</p>
<p>Magnussen liked that about him. </p>
<p>Possessing Sherlock was like trying to break an unruly horse, it took a special kind of mindset and a will to succeed, Victor Trevor had certainly not managed it and despite many efforts Magnussen was still uncertain if he had done so himself. </p>
<p>He had humiliated him of course, enjoyed him physically in every shape or form, but broken his spirit completely? </p>
<p>No, that had yet to occur. </p>
<p>Even that strangling incident had not managed it.</p>
<p> Sherlock hadn’t mentioned it afterwards with so much as a word. He had looked scared the moment before passing out, but not enough for Magnussen to feel that rare jolt of excitement he experienced when completely bringing a person to the edge of the abyss. </p>
<p>Magnussen wasn’t a killer, not by his own hands anyway, but torturing someone enough to bring them to the end of their sanity was an especially delightful little enjoyment that he allowed his otherwise cold and collected personality to indulge in. </p>
<p>That moment, seeing a person break in front of his eyes, was the best part of what drew him to play this game in the first place, and the more difficult person to break, the greater joy when finally succeeding.</p>
<p>“What is that you have treated yourself to this time? The records from your past included quite an extensive list. Is it perhaps a repeat performance from those hazy days or have you been inventive with that chemistry set of yours?”</p>
<p>He looked down at the fragile figure on the bed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.</p>
<p>“Or were you perhaps exceptionally naughty this time? I believe I heard something about a break-in at your brother’s facility, around the time you acquainted yourself with Dr Watson. A botched-up attempt, but knowing you, as well as what your brother’s facility harbours in form of chemical supplies and illicit substances, there is always the opportunity for a repeat performance, of course.”</p>
<p>Sherlock’s silence spoke more loudly than if he had actually given a positive response to Magnussen’s claim.</p>
<p>“It is unfortunate that such filthy habits have this sort of side-effect on your appearance though. Not even I would choose to take advantage of you in this state. Too reminiscent of penetrating a living corpse.”</p>
<p>“Know much about that experience, do you?” Sherlock said in a sardonic tone.</p>
<p>“Ah, still feisty despite your pitiable state. I like that about you, Sherlock, always ready to put up a fight until you draw your last breath. Just make sure that it doesn’t happen sooner than you think, as I’m not done enjoying you yet. And Victor is hardly ready to become a widower before he’s even had the pleasure of having you as his husband. At least think of us, if you neglect to think of yourself.”</p>
<p>“Yes, how selfish of me to not think of others while suffering an overdose. I’ll try to be more considerate the next time.”</p>
<p>Magnussen gave Sherlock a look of slight disapproval.</p>
<p>“So you’re planning for a next time already? What does your brother have to say about that?”</p>
<p>“Nothing probably, as I haven’t included him in my plans yet.”</p>
<p>“And Dr Watson?”</p>
<p>“What of him? You already know he isn’t here anymore, so why would I take him into consideration?”</p>
<p>Magnussen reached out a hand and tugged at the damp black curls falling across the forehead.</p>
<p>“Such insolence, even when looking like someone I could have picked up from the men’s room at Paddington Station at 03:00 A.M, minus any fresh punctuation wounds on your arms, but certainly with the same fetid odour I would expect form such a location.”</p>
<p>His grip around the hair roots tightened for a second as he tilted the younger man’s head back so their eyes could meet.</p>
<p>“You know why I’m asking about him. What happened for him to leave so suddenly? Between you and me, leaving Victor out of it completely, was there more than just a professional relationship going on between the two of you?”</p>
<p>“Since when did you start asking redundant questions?”</p>
<p>The urge to slap one of those heated cheeks was really tempting, but instead Magnussen released his grip of the hair and stepped back from the bed, deciding to leave the question about John Watson unanswered for now.</p>
<p>“I expect you to snap out of this deplorable state as quickly as possible, I’m not allowing you to worm yourself out of our agreement by drugging yourself into immobility. I want my pound of flesh as has been promised.”</p>
<p>“How eloquently put. But don’t worry, I’m not worming myself out of anything. Merely passing the time while avoiding being consumed by boredom.”</p>
<p>Magnussen stepped forward again and grabbed the chin firmly between his fingers, enjoying the feeling of heat radiating from Sherlock’s skin, mixing so well with the dampness coming from his own hand. </p>
<p>“There are other ways to pass the time, more suitable than what you have chosen to do this time. Remember who you belong to, Sherlock. That body is not yours to do whatever you want with.”</p>
<p>“How could I possibly forget? Even when you’re not around, I always have your fingerprints on my body to remind me.”</p>
<p>“And don’t they make a beautiful pattern on that delicate pale skin of yours, bruises in black, purple and yellow. So very very lovely....”</p>
<p>With that he released his grip around the chin and reached inside the coverlet to retrieve one of Sherlock’s hands, pressing his moist lips to the thin wrist, sucking at the position of the radial artery, allowing his teeth to scrape against the delicate skin.</p>
<p>“There is no escaping me, Sherlock dear. Remember that,” he mumbled, his lips still pressed against the pulse point. “There are places for filthy little addicts like you to be locked up if this nonsense continues, but not even those facilities would be able to offer you a hiding place. It would just be another bed in another room and with no one around to hear you being penetrated by me. Could be quite a relief for you brother actually, being given a reprieve from hearing you choking on my cock every other night. Do you think he puts his cameras on mute while I’m here or does he actually cut the feed completely so he can continue to pretend that his little brother isn’t such a whore? What do you think?”</p>
<p>This time he allowed the lack of a response, it was enough pleasure to see the supressed anger in those fiery eyes, so he allowed the younger man to purse his lips into an indignant line, refusing to reply, even if such insolence normally would be met with a punishent.</p>
<p>Sherlock has always been so full of arrogance which was why it was such a joy to rattle his cage enough for him to allow signs of anger to appear. One of these days, Magnussen had decided that he was going to succeed in his efforts to break him completely. Just not yet, not when there was still pleasure to be had from him. </p>
<p>But one of these days....</p>
<p>He let go of the limp hand to watch it fall back on top of the coverlet and then turned his back on Sherlock, ready to leave, now as he had seen what Mycroft had so adamantly tried to keep a secret.</p>
<p>Not that Victor would be deterred from his amorous pursuits by any of this, he was far too stubborn to let something like drugs get in the way of achieving what he wanted. </p>
<p>And Magnussen’s own main objection to the drugs was that they offered a risk of Sherlock actually succeeding in killing himself before they were done with him and he wasn’t about to let that happen just yet. Not until every ounce of that body had been completely sucked dry and left nothing but a broken shell in its place.</p>
<p>“Start getting better soon, Sherlock, I’ll eagerly await some improvement within the next couple of days. Oh, and I told Mycroft to allow Victor to come visit you. I’ll bet that could really get you motivated enough to get out of that bed and back on your feet.”</p>
<p>And with those words he left, without turning to see what kind of impact his words had on the other man, sensing quite well than his message had been properly received and firmly understood.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>------------------</p>
</div>John had just arrived from his morning swim, hair still damp, his towel slung across his shoulders when the supervisor, Mr Rudd, approached him in the barrack, ignoring the curious looks from the other co-workers.<p>A visit from him normally involved some sort of reprimand but John hadn’t met with the man since Victor’s visit and as far as he could recall he had done nothing to deserve a warning.</p>
<p>Without offering any further explanation, Mr Rudd asked him to follow him to his office.</p>
<p>“Can I get dressed first?”</p>
<p>“You can come as you are and change into your work uniform later. Your presence is asked for quite urgently.”</p>
<p>“By whom?”</p>
<p>“Not for me to say, Watson. Just get a move on, I’ve wasted a good twenty minutes looking for you already, I’m not about to waste another ten by explaining things that you will soon have the answer too anyway.”</p>
<p>As they walked over to the office, John wondered who was demanding his presence at this hour in the morning. He was about to meet Sherlock later tonight so surely not him. Besides, Sherlock wouldn’t be this blunt about it, especially not now when they were supposed to have fallen out.</p>
<p>Mycroft was a possibility of course, if Sherlock had perhaps informed him of their meeting the other night. But why would he ask John to meet him at Mr Rudd’s office instead of just sending a car to conduct the meeting somewhere else?</p>
<p>The third alternative he sincerely hoped he was wrong about. Because if he would be forced to endure another second in Victor Trevor’s company now that he knew what the man had done to Sherlock, John wasn’t completely sure he would be able to hold it together. A good trashing would have felt like a very satisfying way to punish the bastard, but it would hardly be beneficial to Sherlock’s plan.</p>
<p>There was also the alarming fact that Victor had not returned the gun yet. </p>
<p>John had checked under his mattress, but it had not been there, so Victor had clearly decided to hold onto it. </p>
<p>Considering how unstable Victor was, that idea didn’t sit well with John, but for now he had been unable to communicate this to Sherlock and he could do nothing about it himself either. </p>
<p>He had no idea where Victor lived, where he might have stowed away the weapon or how he was going to get it back without ending up on the wrong side of the barrel once more, so for now he had been forced to accept that his weapon was temporarily gone.</p>
<p>As they reached Mr Rudd’s office, the man grumpily showed him inside and then pointed at an old-fashioned landline telephone situated on his desk.</p>
<p>“There. Take the call, he’s waiting for you.”</p>
<p>Then he walked over and sat down on a chair pushed to the wall, probably where he seated those he called into his office for reprimands. That was apparently as much privacy he was willing to offer. At least he made the pretence of not eavesdropping by picking up a newspaper and leafing through it, while John walked over to the desk.</p>
<p>Perplexed he picked up the receiver and hesitantly said hello into it.</p>
<p>“Dr Watson. I hope I’m not keeping you from something important?”</p>
<p>The voice that came floating towards him from the other end of the line was one he immediately recognized, the distinct Scandinavian accent ingrained in his memory, as well as the exceptionally smooth way in which the other man spoke, as if everything he said was an afterthought. </p>
<p>John frowned, because out of all the people he had expected to hear from, this man was not among them. He knew what Sherlock had said about him likely trying to reach out, but now when it actually happened, John felt uncomfortably unprepared. </p>
<p>Because if he despised Victor Trevor with true venom, Magnussen was someone he actually hated even more. </p>
<p>Because, after all, it was Magnussen who came off as the true villain in this situation even if Victor certainly had accomplished his fair share of devilry as well. </p>
<p>It was Magnussen who, like a true sexual predator, had wormed his way into Sherlock’s bed, time and time again, taking advantage of the situation in the most despicable way imaginable. </p>
<p>John felt how bile was beginning to rise in his throat just picturing that disgusting man with the dead eyes behind his spectacles, crawling under the covers to allow his repulsively sweaty hands to travel all over Sherlock’s naked body, inflicting him with harm as well as humiliation, while the younger man had no other option but to allow for it to happen.</p>
<p>So it was a true herculean effort that John managed to sound more or less normal when he answered Magnussen’s polite request, remembering Sherlock’s words from the other night, about playing his role as impeccably as he possibly could.</p>
<p>“Not at all, Mr Magnussen. I was just about to start my shift but there is still a little time left. Erm, how may I help you?”</p>
<p>“Well, it is actually of a somewhat delicate nature and one I’m not sure is suited to handle over the phone. It involves your patient, Sherlock, and I was wondering if you would be amenable to meet me tomorrow evening, at my office. Say, around seven o’clock?”</p>
<p>John contemplated how he was going to reply to this without coming off as too eager. </p>
<p>He knew that by now Magnussen had been informed about his resignation, otherwise he wouldn’t have called, so he should try to play it cool, but he felt too astonished as well as giddy over how correctly Sherlock had predicted this scenario.</p>
<p>It felt like all those intricate slots that needed to be slid into place were now fitting into the desired pattern and there could finally be something more than just a glimmer of hope.</p>
<p>But for that to happen, he needed to act his part, so instead of immediately accepting Magnussen’s request, he allowed his voice to turn suspicious and disinterested.</p>
<p>“I’m no longer working as Mr Holmes’s physician, so I’m not sure I’m the person you should be talking to. There is, I’m sure, a new representative in my place, perhaps you should reach out to him instead.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I always thought you had such a good connection with Sherlock, I’m disappointed to hear that you are no longer his doctor,” Magnussen said with no particular empathy in his voice at all. He was clearly acting a part as well but neglecting to put any emotions into his performance, merely stating the right words to say.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m not sorry about it,” John replied in a curt tone. “We didn’t part on particularly happy terms.”</p>
<p>“I see. Well, I understand your reluctance then, Dr Watson. But it is a pity, as there is a matter I really wanted to address with someone who knows him a little better than a new physician might.”</p>
<p>“There is always his fiancé or his brother to consult.”</p>
<p>John hoped he kept himself on the right side of indifference, it would not do to seem too stand-offish or Magnussen might decide that he wasn’t worth the effort. But there was also the matter of trying to no come off as too eager, raising the other man’s suspicions instead.</p>
<p>So far his balancing act seemed to be working though.</p>
<p>“As I’m sure you know, family members are not always the most suited for certain discussions,” Magnussen said, allowing a tone of insinuation to taint his otherwise nondescript voice. </p>
<p>John assumed it had to be about the drugs but wasn’t completely sure and decided to be as vague as he could in his reply.</p>
<p>“If this is about his newly discovered deplorable habits, I have no wish to talk about them, Mr Magnussen.”</p>
<p>Magnussen immediately feigned ignorance.  </p>
<p>“What deplorable habits are you referring to?”</p>
<p>“Assumingly the same as your tone of voice indicated.”</p>
<p>“Oh so there is actually some truth to the rumour then?"</p>
<p>"Wait? What rumour?"</p>
<p>"That he tried to seduce you under his fiancés nose?”</p>
<p><i>Oh, he is trying to bait me to see what I’m willing to divulge. Not about the drugs but of the nature of our relationship</i>, John thought and wondered just how bitter he was going to pretend to be about it.</p>
<p>“I was not referring to anything like that, even if there might be some truth to it as well. I’m speaking of something more <i>unhealthy</i>…” He hesitated as if contemplating whether he should continue, drawing out the suspense about something both of them in reality already knew. </p>
<p>Magnussen was simply testing the waters, to see how far he was willing to go and John was treading the slippery slope of not wanting to reveal too much too soon. He needed to be seen as knowing something of interest without giving it all away at the very first opportunity.</p>
<p>When no further explanation was offered, Magnussen picked up the bone John had thrown him, by acting polite and understanding.</p>
<p>“I’m not completely sure I know what you are referring to, but it is understandably a tricky situation to be talking about your former patient, especially as you are still working for the same employer who also happens to be his older brother. That cannot be easy for you, Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>“Well, there’s not much choice is there? I need a job and finding a new one isn’t that simple, with my war wound and all…I thought I was really lucky when I was offered the position as Sherlock’s physician at first. Now I regret ever accepting it.”</p>
<p>“Understandably so. I know nothing of your particular circumstances, but I know that the Holmes brothers can be quite brutal in their dealings with people. Both of them have that reputation. There are others who have crossed their path and ended up in the same situation as you, Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>“I’ll bet there is no one who’s had to endure what I went through though.”</p>
<p>“Well, it depends on what exactly you went through, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Nothing but humiliation and misery....” John muttered, managing to actually tap into the feelings he had initially felt when first falling out with Sherlock, leaving out the detail of genuine heartbreak, both for his own sake but also because he didn’t want Magnussen to get to the true core of his feelings for Sherlock.</p>
<p>“I see. Sounds problematic indeed and naturally you must be reminded of it almost daily when forced to remain working for his brother. But that dilemma could easily be resolved if you’re willing to meet with me tomorrow evening and see if we might to come to some sort of arrangement.”</p>
<p>“What kind of arrangement do you have in mind?” John asked sceptically.</p>
<p>“Oh, nothing too elaborate really. Answer a few of my questions and in return earn some money to get out of your predicament while simultaneously get back at them for what they have put you through. It could give you the perfect opportunity to start anew, in London perhaps. Or return to your hometown? There could be better options for you if you consider my offer.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure that I’m willing to succumb to any more arrangements, considering where the last one landed me...”</p>
<p>“But surely there can be no harm in simply answering a few questions?”</p>
<p>John pretended to consider this, casting a glance at Mr Rudd who was still reading the paper, the comics if the look of amusement in his eyes was anything to go by.</p>
<p>As the silence stretched on, Magnussen was the one who had to continue talking if they were going to get somewhere.</p>
<p>“What do you say, Dr Watson? My office tomorrow evening at seven? My car can pick you up and all you really need to do is hear what I have to say. No harm in that, surely? If you’re not interested, you simply walk away and figure out on your own how you’re going to get out of your predicament. There is nothing for you to lose either way, only to be gained, if you chose to take my offer.”</p>
<p>“It is tempting...” John admitted. </p>
<p>He wondered how this conversation would have gone if he had not been prepared for it in advance on account of Sherlock. </p>
<p>Granted, he would not have been aware of Magnussen’s blackmailing habit, but he would most likely have been unwilling to discuss anything private regarding himself and Sherlock anyway, whatever monetary rewards Magnussen would be inclined to offer him. </p>
<p>But as this was about setting a trap, of course he was going to feign interest in Magnussen’s arrangement now, however reluctant he felt about meeting the man, feeling an actual shudder run down his spine at the thought of facing him again.</p>
<p>He secretly wondered if he should have put up more of a resistance instead of so easily considering the offer. On the other hand, Magnussen knew nothing about his true character and principles, he had no idea that John would never willingly accept to sell anyone out, however angry he was. He hadn’t done that with Victor the other night and was even less likely to do so with someone like Magnussen.</p>
<p> But for Sherlock’s sake he needed to pretend that what Magnussen was trying to offer might actually be of some interest to him. He needed to come off as bitter and ready to strike up a deal if he was truly going to be granted access to what Sherlock needed to be free from his shackles.  </p>
<p>“I suppose there is no harm in hearing what sort of offer you might have for me. I’m not agreeing to anything in advance though, is that clear, Mr Magnussen?”</p>
<p>“Naturally. You are allowed to leave whenever you want if what I offer is of no interest to you.”</p>
<p>“Alright, I guess we have a deal then.”</p>
<p>“Excellent. Now I won’t hold you any longer from your duties.  I’ll see you tomorrow at seven, Dr Watson.”</p>
<p>“Will do. Goodbye, Mr Magnussen.”</p>
<p>The feeling of just having tried to trick the devil made him feel rather uneasy. </p>
<p>Magnussen was a cunning character and not even Sherlock or Mycroft had so far managed to beat him. Was this really going to work on a man so devious that two geniuses had so far failed in all their efforts? </p>
<p>It seemed a bit too easy all of a sudden.</p>
<p>And what of Victor Trevor? Sherlock had as of yet not really offered any explanation on how they were going to get rid of him.</p>
<p>With a feeling of unease, he put the receiver down again, sincerely hoping that Sherlock had some answers tonight to the many questions that were now swirling inside his head.</p>
<p>“Well off you go, Watson. Work started ten minutes ago and you need to change into your work uniform,” Mr Rudd said over by the door, the newspaper now discarded on the floor, the man clearly ready to get rid of him.</p>
<p>John sighed and wished that he could have had a way to communicate all of this to Sherlock straight away but knew that he had to wait until evening came.</p>
<p> Hopefully he would feel better about all of this after that meeting and not have the nagging feeling at the back of his head that they were all walking steadily towards a terrible disaster.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Like a thief in the night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John looked at the abandoned house with some scepticism. </p>
<p>It was one of those left-over wreckages with a leaking roof, broken windows, standing more crooked than straight, hidden behind some trees in a small grove, abandoned a long time ago and apparently the perfect place for a clandestine meeting with your lover turned schemer, a good five kilometres from John’s workplace. <br/>He had borrowed a bicycle from a co-worker to get there and discarded the vehicle next to a bush before walking the remaining overgrown path leading up to the cottage, wondering how Sherlock had managed to make his way here without getting noticed. For some reason, using Mycroft’s car did not seem like a good option if he wanted to be discreet and there had been no tire marks on the somewhat muddy ground surrounding the place,</p>
<p>The inside was just as bad as the outside, dirty floor, dead leaves, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, filth everywhere and he was pretty sure an animal had died in a corner somewhere on account of the smell. </p>
<p>The place must have stayed abandoned for years and he wondered how Sherlock even knew about it to begin with.  </p>
<p>An old-fashioned lantern was the only source of light available but instead of offering some well-needed illumination it managed to make the place seem even spookier by causing long shadows to dance across the walls as well as the floor, creating the feel of a haunted house instead of a cosy old cottage.</p>
<p>The state of the place did not seem to concern Sherlock though, who came up from behind as John entered through the front door and snaked his arm around John’s waist while pressing his lips to his neck, taking the time to tease the sensitive skin by swirling his tongue in that familiar way that sent a tingling sensation straight to John’s groin and made him go weak at the knees.</p>
<p>“Really, <i>here</i>?” he mumbled, closing his eyes while Sherlock’s other hand began tugging at the lining of his sweater to get it off.</p>
<p>“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed <i>this</i>. What does it matter where we are?” Sherlock absently said, clearly more concerned with what his hands were currently trying to achieve than what the room looked like. </p>
<p>Point taken. </p>
<p>“Fine. But I’m not lying down on that filthy floor, and the table looks like it’s about to fall into pieces at any second. If we do this, I’m having you against the only wall in here that doesn’t look as if it is about to topple over.”</p>
<p>Sherlock’s only response to that was the sound of his tongue licking the outline of John’s neck down to the collarbone, pressing a soft kiss there while his hands kept moving inside John’s sweater now, eagerly wanting to touch bare skin.</p>
<p>John interrupted his fervent search by quite firmly ordering him to obey.</p>
<p>“March over to that wall and spread your legs!”</p>
<p>Obediently and rather eagerly, Sherlock did as he was told, releasing his grip and walking over to the only wall that still looked as if it was holding up the rest of the place, giving John a good opportunity to watch the body he had so greatly missed, moving with the usual elegance that came with it, as always dressed in a figure-hugging dark suit that Sherlock surely knew put his best assets on display.</p>
<p>“You really are a tease; do you know that?” John said and the hint of a smile fleetingly crossed Sherlock’s features as he cast John a look over his shoulder before he leaned his arms against the wall and spread his legs.</p>
<p>“I think you like that about me, John Watson. Easier to boss me around if you think I’m asking for it by being a flirt.”</p>
<p>“Possibly…” John agreed, letting his eyes roam that perfect form he had in front of him one last time before slowly approaching. “Now, if you could keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and allow us make up for the time we lost while being separated, that would be great.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t me that ended it…” came a defensive muttering from the wall and John narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p>“Sherlock…” he said warningly.</p>
<p>“I’m just pointing out that technically….”</p>
<p>“Well, don’t,” John effectively cut him off. “If I were you, I would not open up that particular can of worms right now, you still need my help with Magnussen after all. Didn’t Mycroft ever tell you not to aggravate those who are trying to help you?”</p>
<p>“Probably. It does sound like something he would say, but I usually tune out when he starts nattering so I can’t tell for sure. Why on earth are we even talking about my brother, I thought we had better things to do? You as good as promised me to make up for lost time if I leaned against this wall.” </p>
<p>He turned his head to throw John a pointed glance over his shoulder. “Well, I’m leaning now…”</p>
<p>“You’re a real wanker, anyone ever tell you that?” John couldn’t hide the smile that played on his lips when he said this, and Sherlock simply shrugged before turned his head back to face the wall.</p>
<p>“I’m told that all the time. Doesn’t change the fact that you love me. Now could you please get on with it, doctor?”</p>
<p>As Sherlock was facing the wall, his legs eagerly spread, his pert bottom pushed out a little bit in an inviting gesture, he didn’t notice how John had flinched at his words.</p>
<p>Because however casually he had said it, Sherlock had accurately pointed out that John loved him. </p>
<p>And it was true, wasn’t it? </p>
<p>Although he had never realised that Sherlock actually had figured it out, as he had been so careful to keep it all hidden away inside of him. He had scarcely allowed himself to contemplate that notion and now it was suddenly out there, in the form of a throw-away comment, as if Sherlock didn’t realise the magnitude of those words. To John they meant everything. </p>
<p>Even if Sherlock was the most perceptive person he had ever met, feelings were not his strongest area of expertise, so John had never realised that he most likely had figured it out some time ago, possibly even before John knew it himself. Despite his efforts at keeping it a secret.</p>
<p>
  <i>Damn.</i>
</p>
<p>Shaking the feeling of unease that this realisation created inside of him, he concentrated on what he had in front of him instead, approaching Sherlock from behind, running his hands up and down his back, over the buttocks and down his thighs before he wormed his arms around to the front to start working on the buttons and the zipper holding those fancy dress pants in place. </p>
<p>So what if Sherlock knew of his feeling towards him? Did John really still think that he would be susceptible to being taken advantage of by the other man, his feelings exploited on account of some underlying motive? </p>
<p>It was possible that a part of him still feared how vulnerable his feelings made him, but on the other hand, he couldn’t change it anyway. He did love Sherlock and so what if the other man knew about it? The biggest question was how Sherlock felt in return...</p>
<p>While John was mentally trying to stop himself from ruining the moment by overthinking things, his hands were still occupied with ridding the other man from his trousers while  Sherlock pressed himself against John’s stiffening cock and almost grinded against the friction like a lust-ridden cat, making it difficult for John to concentrate on what his hands were doing. </p>
<p>As the trousers fell down to the ankles, Sherlock tried turning around but was immediately pushed back again, facing the wall.</p>
<p>“Who said you were allowed to move?” John growled and nibbled at Sherlock’s ear while stroking his hand over the hard bulge stretching against the satin fabric of Sherlock’s underwear, feeling his own cock respond appreciatively to the sensation.</p>
<p>To indulge in sexual activities while plotting against Magnussen hadn’t really crossed his mind in advance when he had borrowed the bicycle to make it here tonight, so he had not thought of bringing anything they could use for sex. </p>
<p>There was also no running water in the cottage so John figured that wanking each other off might be the best option they had available for them, as he was not willing to penetrate Sherlock without any sort lubricant and he certainly wasn’t that keen on getting old dirt and cobwebs all over himself on account of the filth covering every available surface, with no option to wash himself off afterwards.</p>
<p>But as if being able to read his thoughts on the subject, Sherlock suddenly interrupted his grinding against John’s crotch and put his hand into one of the pockets of his jacket, still hanging off his shoulders as John had so far turned all of his attention to ridding him only of his trousers. </p>
<p>From the pocket Sherlock retrieved a small vial with something liquid inside and handed it over.</p>
<p>“What’s that?” John asked and turned it around between his fingers.</p>
<p>“Lubricant.”</p>
<p>John squinted at the nondescript vial, frowning a bit.</p>
<p>“There’s no label on the bottle. Is it some sort of exclusive brand that only comes in a limited stock from some fancy store where posh people buy their sex toys?”</p>
<p>“Well, you could say that it is exclusive, yes. In fact, it is handmade. From my own laboratory.”</p>
<p>John stared at him for a second to see if he was perhaps having him on, but as Sherlock still looked at the bottle in John’s hand quite expectantly, he realised that this probably wasn’t a joke.</p>
<p>“Oh, my God…” he groaned and closed his eyes in exasperation. “Why on earth…” </p>
<p>He cut himself off before he had uttered the rest of the sentence. “No, don’t answer that. Is this what you use that chemistry set of yours to do? Cooking your own drugs and producing homemade lubricant?”</p>
<p>“No, it’s is my first attempt at something like this actually. I made it this very morning,” </p>
<p>Sherlock had the gall to look quite pleased with himself while revealing this information.</p>
<p>John took a deep breath, slowly releasing it before he spoke again, despairingly pinching the bridge of his noise while trying to keep his calmness in check.</p>
<p>“And why exactly did you think that making your own lubricant would be good idea? For <i>this</i> particular meeting?”</p>
<p>“Mycroft said I would probably need it.”</p>
<p>“<i>What?!</i>” John could feel his own eyes threatening to bulge out of their sockets from sheer disbelief. Sherlock on the other hand looked surprisingly unaffected considering the subject of conversation.</p>
<p>“Well, he didn’t mention lubricant in per se. But he said that I needed to put you in a better mood before revealing a thing or two that I might have omitted to mention earlier. And I know how much you like to penetrate me, so what better way than to make it easier for you to do so despite our rough accommodation. Knowing that you would never do it without lubricant and going to the shops… well, it wasn’t doable under the circumstances, I decided to make a go of producing my own version. I’ve tried it out myself, even tasted it and…”</p>
<p>“Tasted it?!” John blurted out with rising horror, imagining Sherlock standing over one of those beakers from his chemistry set in that cluttered room of his, putting his tongue out to lick the liquid of a spatula dipped in his freshly produced experiment. </p>
<p>“I added the flavour essence of cinnamon rolls. You once said you’re fond of those.”</p>
<p>“Not while having sex, Sherlock! I don’t want to think of my mother’s cinnamon rolls while simultaneously fucking someone!”</p>
<p>His voice had gone up a notch now and Sherlock looked somewhat taken aback by this reaction, perhaps even slightly hurt. But John had managed to work himself up into a bit of a state and needed to have this off his chest. </p>
<p>“Mycroft might have offered you this piece of advice but as he is even more emotionally constipated when it comes to human interaction than you are, let me tell you that this is not the way to go about it, first trying to loosen me up by offering sex, then pulling the rug from beneath my feet with some piece of information that you have kept from me, thinking the blow will not be as bad if I’m still affected by endorphins.”</p>
<p>Annoyed now, he stepped away from Sherlock, who stood there with his trousers around his ankles, looking slightly confused.</p>
<p>“Whenever I finally think that things are becoming reasonably normal between us, you go ahead and pull something like this. You just can’t help it, can you? All the tricks, the lies and the deceit, when does it ever stop with you?” </p>
<p>John’s voice had grown decidedly angrier with each step he took away from Sherlock, slamming the vial of homemade lubricant on top of a crate pushed into a corner of the room, quite forcefully. </p>
<p>“This isn’t the same as it was in the past. I didn’t attempt to seduce you, I simply wanted to be with you because I’ve missed you,” Sherlock attempted to explain but John wasn’t willing to hear it.</p>
<p>“But Mycroft told you that you needed to be seductive and lenient towards me in a way to sugar-coat whatever it is that you have neglected to tell me, so you went ahead and created your own bloody lubricant to bring with you to our meeting! If that is not manipulative, Sherlock, then I don’t know what is!”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t like that. He told me that a few of my omissions…..well, <i>lies,</i> were likely to anger you when you would become aware of them, and as I don’t want to continue keeping things from you, I knew that I needed to come clean. Because, for us to be able to work efficiently together against Magnussen you need to know everything. Mycroft simply stated that you might need to be eased into it…that I should…”</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you’re taking advice from Mycroft regarding anything!” John barked, throwing his arms out in frustration. </p>
<p>“He isn’t totally useless when it comes to advice. Or at least he shouldn’t be, he works for the Government, so advising people is more or less his day job. In this matter I figured that he made a good point…”</p>
<p>“Maybe he should stick to his day job instead of giving crappy guidance to his little brother!” </p>
<p>Sherlock sighed and bent down to pull up his trousers. Then he drew a hand through his curls and walked over to the crate to retrieve the vial, putting it back into his pocket.</p>
<p>“Shame that this apparently backfired, I was really interested in hearing your opinion of it. Are you sure you’re not interested in trying it out? A bit later perhaps?”</p>
<p>This caused John to finally erupt.</p>
<p>“Absolutely fucking sure! For one, I have seen the mess surrounding your chemistry set, there is no way I would put anything on my cock that has been produced under such biohazardous conditions!</p>
<p> Secondly, for you to even mention Mycroft while trying to seduce me, let me tell you, it is the biggest turn-off I’ve ever experienced. </p>
<p>And thirdly, but certainly most important - you need tell what it is that you have kept from me and after that I’ll decide what it will mean for the future of us. I’m not withdrawing my offer to help you with Magnussen, but depending on the scale of your lies, I might actually reconsider withdrawing any future sexual activities between us. So, spit it out, Sherlock! All of it! And if I later find out that you have left so much as a measly little detail out, that will be the end of you and me. Understood?”</p>
<p>Sherlock nodded, opening his mouth as if to say something but then clamped it shut again, wiping away the beginning of a pout by turning it into something more blank before he jumped up on the crate to sit down, lighting a cigarette with fingers that were twitching slightly. </p>
<p>It was tempting to tell him to get rid of it but John realised that Sherlock for once actually seemed a bit nervous, and after his own outburst he figured that he might need to give the other man a chance to redeem himself as well as trying to calm himself down a little bit. </p>
<p>As the initial annoyance was beginning to ebb out, he could even see the slight humour in Sherlock producing his own lubricant based on some ill-advised words from Mycroft. </p>
<p>Because if Mycroft was the person Sherlock had to rely on regarding advice on life, no wonder his views on how to behave when it became to human relationships was so skewed. </p>
<p>John recalled what Sherlock had told him about first meeting Victor and how happy but also afraid he had been in the beginning. Happy to finally have a friend after so many years of loneliness but at the same time afraid to lose the friendship as quickly as he had gained it. And then of course Mycroft’s misgivings about getting involved with other people, surely undermining everything Sherlock secretly hoped for when finding someone who was willing to put up with him.</p>
<p>It was difficult to say what kind of person Victor had been back then as John only knew him as he was now, but it was plausible that Sherlock had been blind to certain aspects of Victor’s personality on account of the happiness he had experienced and he must have done his very best to please his new-found friend by turning himself inside out in every effort to make him stay, never realising that it was the wrong thing to do.</p>
<p>Because behind all that carefully arranged exterior was someone truly lost when it came to dealing with other people and a sudden wave of empathy suddenly surged through John as he looked at the dashing figure perched on top of the crate, legs crossed and the cigarette dangling from his fingers, the very image of self-confidence personified, but John knew better now.</p>
<p>Sherlock had been right earlier. </p>
<p>John did love him, more than probably was good for him, but he also realised that he wasn’t as dazzled by the other man as he had been in the past. </p>
<p>Previously, when they had been caught up in their illicit affair, Sherlock had been this fascinating figure seemingly beyond John’s reach, almost like a fantasy that could never turn real, constantly slipping through John’s fingers as he had no way of grasping what was hidden beneath the beautiful exterior. </p>
<p>But now, when he knew more about Sherlock’s background, his failings and insecurities, the body of a real person had solidified the figment of his imagination and turned Sherlock into a real person.</p>
<p> A person John wasn’t only infatuated with anymore but actually loved, deeply, wholeheartedly and without doubt. </p>
<p>He knew that, despite his own harsh words, mere minutes earlier, he would never leave Sherlock again. </p>
<p>He would probably argue and fight with him on many more times to come, get angry, lash out, despair over his behaviour. But he would never leave as long as Sherlock didn’t ask him to.</p>
<p>And despite the very daunting realisation that this was how he actually felt, a certain warmth spread inside his chest when he looked at the other man while still trying to look stern, knowing deep down that when this business with Magnussen was all over and done with, he would want nothing more than put his arms around Sherlock and never let go.</p>
<p>But for pretence sake, because Sherlock needed to learn that manipulations were no longer going to work between them, he cleared his throat and gave a grim glare:</p>
<p>“Well. I’m still waiting…Start explaining yourself.”</p>
<p>Sherlock took a long drag from his cigarette, as if vying for time, but then launched himself into it without hesitation or pause.</p>
<p>“Well, to begin with; there never was any issue with drugs. At least not to the extent that I made you believe. I never took anything on the night of Magnussen’s party.  It was all just a ruse created to trick him and subsequently you as well, as I needed for you to believe it, in an effort to fool Magnussen. <br/>Mycroft is of the opinion that I should have included you in the plan from the start but I figured that with your poor acting skills it would be better if you believed there to be a real addiction. </p>
<p>I needed for you and me to be seen as sudden enemies and when you reacted they way you did to my drug abuse I just ran with it and allowed you to believe that I was this cold-hearted drug addict who had used you to keep my vice a secret. But I actually never used anything. <br/>I fooled you by taking eyedrops to shrink the size of my pupils and a pill to slow down my heartrate, the rest was just theatrics. </p>
<p>Granted, I might have taken a thing or two to alleviate the feeling of despair after Magnussen’s nightly visits to my bed, but I’m no longer an addict, not like I was at Cambridge. At most I could be called an occasional user, but I haven’t taken anything recently and frankly I don’t see the need to do so either.</p>
<p>Initially I wasn’t going to include you in any of my plans, as I told you the other night. I thought it best that I pushed you away instead and I still think it is a lot to ask of you to get involved with someone as dangerous as Magnussen and to some extent Victor as well.  But as you have proven to be so irreplaceable to me, I’ve been forced to change my mind and include you nonetheless. Very selfish of me, I know, but there you have it. </p>
<p>I’m sorry that I lied to you, I know you were very upset by the drugs and that you have been thinking about it even if you didn’t really mention it the other night. There is no need for you to worry. I’m not a drug addict, merely a manipulator who wanted your help but couldn’t be bothered to ask for it, so instead I used trickery and deceit to get what I wanted. I’m sorry about that.”</p>
<p>The silence that followed as he stopped talking was charged with a whole whirlwind of emotions fighting for dominance inside John, as well as a hesitant pause from Sherlock who took a final drag of his cigarette before he put it out against the crate he was sitting on, then turning his eyes to look solemnly at John.</p>
<p>“That’s the gist of it, I think. If you have other things you consider to be unclear, feel free to voice them.”</p>
<p>A part of John felt very angry that the whole situation he had been put through on the night after Magnussen’s party had been nothing but a ploy, some idiotic scheme created to push him away in the most cruel way possible. </p>
<p>All those feelings he had experienced that night, the shock, the hurt, the anger, the heartache, it had all been for nothing. Injecting the Narcan, Sherlock throwing up all over the place, their harsh words launched against one another and his own angry exit. It had all just been a part of a grander scheme that he had no idea was taking place straight under his own nose. It was quite humiliating to consider that he had been played so easily. He was a bloody doctor for God’s sake, he should have been able to tell!</p>
<p>But another part of him felt a surge of relief when realising that Sherlock actually hadn’t succumbed to his old deplorable habits again. At least not to the extent that he had feared.</p>
<p>The issue of his drug abuse had not been touched upon by either of them, but Sherlock was right when he said that it had not left John’s mind even if he had failed to address it yet. </p>
<p>To now find out that there wasn’t a spiralling drug problems to deal with made a lump he hadn’t even realised he had kept inside of him, suddenly disappear and it was certainly a relief to realise that their sole focus could now be on taking down Magnussen without adding more to the burden.</p>
<p>“Although I appreciate your apology and coming clean with all of it, there is still something I don’t understand. You never mentioned any of this the other night,” he finally said, and Sherlock gave him a somewhat sheepish look.</p>
<p>“No. I decided not to as I knew Magnussen would want to reach out to you when hearing of your resignation. I thought it would be better if you still thought I was using drugs, on account of your poor acting skills. I wanted for him to believe you. He might not have done so if you had tried lying to him, you’re not a very good actor.”</p>
<p>“Gee, thanks…” John muttered.</p>
<p>“It’s not criticism, most people make terrible actors. “</p>
<p>“Unlike you?”</p>
<p>“Well, Magnussen visited me last night to get a full assessment of my health status and right now he fully believes that I’ve suffered an overdose and that I’m temporarily incapacitated. So yes, I am rather good at pulling off a good performance.”</p>
<p>“You call it acting, others would call it lying,” John dryly pointed out.</p>
<p>Sherlock shrugged.</p>
<p>“It’s just a matter of semantics. Anyway, I would prefer to have Magnussen believe that I’m suffering quite badly from my addiction, preferably until we’re done with all of this. In fact, after tonight I’m planning to raise the stakes even more by pulling myself out of his reach entirely for a while. Officially only of course. You and I will still keep our plan going under the radar, but Magnussen and Victor will think that I’m permanently bedridden as of tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“How are you going to achieve that?”</p>
<p>“By spreading the news that I have suffered another overdose, this time ending me in a coma and have been removed to a private clinic. That will keep the wolves at bay at least for as much time that we need to finish this. If we fail, well, then it won’t matter anymore.”</p>
<p>John shook his head and reached for Sherlock’s cold hand, pressing it reassuringly.</p>
<p>“You know what I’ve said about failing. It can’t be an option for us. It simply won’t be an acceptable outcome in my book.”</p>
<p>Sherlock gave him a weak smile.</p>
<p>“No, you’re right. Of course, we won’t fail.”</p>
<p>There was something ominous about the way he said it though that made John’s stomach clench uncomfortably. And for a second he wondered if Sherlock might be contemplating a real overdose if the plan actually did fail. </p>
<p>He instantly brushed that thought away, finding such an idea too horrible to consider. </p>
<p>If they for some reason failed, there would be other plans, other ideas, it could not be the end surely? Not really?</p>
<p>As if being able to read what John was thinking, Sherlock slowly shook his head.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid we actually need to win this time or lose forever. We have run out of time as well as options. This is the last resort. If we fail, Magnussen will fiercely turn on us, there will be no more opportunities available for anyone of us.”</p>
<p>John resolutely jutted his chin out in challenge.</p>
<p>“Like I said then, we need to make it work.”</p>
<p>He leaned against the crate, next to Sherlock’s legs, still holding the younger man’s hand in his as he told him about Magnussen’s phone call earlier today. </p>
<p>The excitement in Sherlock’s eyes made their previous worries fade temporarily. </p>
<p>“That’s excellent news! You need to come off as really bitter and vengeful when you meet with him tomorrow. Stick to the truth as much as possible, tell him about the affair, about me using you for my own purposes while taking drugs right under your nose while distracting you with sex. Make it sound like I really used you and when he asks for something to corroborate your story, tell him that you have a piece of my underwear or something, perhaps a note from me, anything that will wet his appetite enough to warrant a second visit.”</p>
<p>John frowned.</p>
<p>“Why do I need to see him a second time?”</p>
<p>“Because his secret vault where he keeps all his blackmailing material isn’t in his office. I’ve already tried that angle once, it simply isn’t there. We have managed to narrow it down to his house in London after extensive research, the same place where the dinner party was held, but on that specific evening we were naturally unable access it, too many people around. Besides, he is most likely the only person who can open it anyway. </p>
<p>And that’s where you come in. Once you get invited to his house, keep him sufficiently occupied for me to take care of the rest. I have my guess as to where the vault might be located, but I need you to help me. As he thinks I’m temporarily removed from the scene, he won’t suspect my involvement.”</p>
<p>“How am I supposed to achieve all of this?” John asked with a hint of doubt in his voice.</p>
<p>“You’ll be properly instructed by me tonight of course.”</p>
<p>John slowly nodded. </p>
<p>Then another thought hit him.</p>
<p>“If we somehow manage to beat Magnussen, what are you planning to do with Victor?”</p>
<p>Sherlock shrugged, as if all his planning had only been about Magnussen. Victor was after all also a tangible threat to his happiness and the initial instigator to this whole mess in the first place, so it was a bit surprising for John to see how Sherlock reacted to his question.</p>
<p>“I’ll allow Mycroft to deal with him I suppose,” he said, almost more like an afterthought than a proper reply.</p>
<p>“And what will he do?” </p>
<p>“Probably have him disposed of, one way or another.”</p>
<p>John widened his eyes in shock.</p>
<p>“You can’t be serious!”</p>
<p>“I think that is the only way we can actually deal with him. He is too unstable, and he knows too much about everything. If continued to be left to his own devices, it would be like leaving a ticking bomb unattended. He is beyond redemption. Even prison would be too uncertain, even if we did manage to pin something on him. Mycroft will make him disappear instead, no questions asked.”</p>
<p>“But…you have no problem with that?” John asked in sheer disbelief. “Even if he is a terrible person now, he used to be your friend once. Your boyfriend even. It makes you sound so callous when you speak of him like a problem that needs to be disposed of in such a final manner.”</p>
<p>Sherlock looked at John with clear annoyance in his eyes now.</p>
<p>“He is no longer the man I once cared for back in Cambridge, surely you have realised that by now? He has no problem keeping me as his prisoner, tethered to him for life despite knowing how much I hate him for it, and yet you think me callous for offering him a swift painless death by my brother’s arrangement?”</p>
<p>But John wasn’t willing to back down.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to kill Magnussen, so why do it to Victor?”</p>
<p>“Because if killing Magnussen was all we needed to do to solve our problem, we would have done so a long time ago. A person with that amount of power and leverage over people naturally has a lot of enemies, and yet he walks around more or less unprotected, conducting his daily business without a care in the world. That’s because he has made proper arrangements for all secrets to be revealed if anything happens to him. Killing him would be like unleashing a booby trap right beneath our own feet. </p>
<p>Magnussen is consequently not easy to dispose of. That has in fact been Victor’s blessing all along. As long as Magnussen has been out of our reach, Victor has enjoyed that same protection. When we hopefully manage to neutralise Magnussen, Victor will lose the only security he has and there will no longer be any reason not to get rid of him.”</p>
<p>John stared at Sherlock, his eyes narrowed now.</p>
<p>“Would you be able to kill him yourself?” he said in challenge.</p>
<p>Sherlock went quiet for a second, contemplating this. Then shook his head.</p>
<p>“Then you shouldn’t expect someone else to do it for you,” John pointed out, crossings his arms over his chest resolutely.</p>
<p>Sherlock snorted and tightened his lips in irritation.</p>
<p>“You must have killed people during your time in the army. I don’t understand why you’re so squeamish about the subject of killing someone all of a sudden. It’s not as if anyone’s asking you to do it, Mycroft will handle it. Besides, those hands of yours are hardly lily white and untarnished from blood.”</p>
<p>“There is a difference. I did it out of protection. Those I killed during my army days were bad people, people with weapons coming straight at me, intent on killing me if I didn’t shoot them first. Not people I actually knew.”</p>
<p>“Why would that make a difference? Statistically it is more likely to be killed by someone you know than by a complete stranger. And surely Victor qualifies as being a bad person? He had no qualms about almost putting a bullet through you the other night, only deciding to not do it at the very last second. The next time you probably won’t be as lucky. Isn’t it better to take him out before he takes <i>you</i> out?”</p>
<p>Their eyes locked for a second, neither willing to back down. But eventually Sherlock sighed and turned his gaze away.</p>
<p>“I can’t promise that Mycroft will be persuaded to go along with what you’re suggesting but I’ll ask him if he might consider another solution. It isn’t likely, we have already discussed other options before. But for you, I’ll at least raise the question. But what he decides upon is final.”</p>
<p>“Not necessarily…”John began but Sherlock stopped him before had the chance to get any further.</p>
<p>“This is what I can promise you. Don’t force me to make pledges that I won’t be able keep. Whatever you might think of my brother, there are still things that I have no control over, and he will do as he sees fit. </p>
<p>Now, let’s continue talking about Magnussen and what’s expected of you the next time you see him, as well as the time you’ll hopefully get invited to his house. Mycroft wants me back at the house soon enough and after tonight, the game is afoot. So this is it, whatever we need to tell each other needs to be said tonight. </p>
<p>Henceforward, Mycroft will be your only source of communication and that option needs to be used very sparsely to avoid catching unwanted attention. When receiving your invitation to Magnussen’s house you need to tell Mycroft so he can forward this information to me, but beyond that, don’t reach out to him unless it is a case of emergency.”</p>
<p>John reluctantly realised that he would not achieve any further progress on the subject of Victor and allowed it to drop for now, promising himself that if he could, he would take the matter into his own hands later. Maybe Mycroft could be persuaded somehow?</p>
<p>Instead he nodded and prepared himself to listen carefully to Sherlock’s instructions, realising the importance of succeeding, or this might actually be the last time they ever saw each other again. </p>
<p>As he cycled home through the darkness 40 minutes later, his head full of guidelines and advice, his body surging with nervous anticipation for things to work out in their favour, his thoughts kept lingering on Victor Trevor for some reason. </p>
<p>He was still somewhat shocked that Sherlock would so easily go along with Mycroft’s plan of secretly having Victor killed, even if a part of him logically could see why they would resort to such a solution. </p>
<p>He remembered Victor pointing his gun on him the other night and the unhinged look in the man’s eyes while doing so. </p>
<p>Victor was clearly someone who along the road had lost his footing on reality but wasn’t aware of it himself. To refer to him as ticking bomb, as Sherlock had done earlier, had not been an exaggeration.</p>
<p>And in fact, as he seemed determined to constantly lash out towards John in some sort of misplaced act of jealousy, John realised that Victor might actually pose a threat to their plan if he decided to confront John again, bringing the gun with him and this time actually pull the trigger.</p>
<p>John realised that they had forgot to prepare for that eventuality and that he would now need to do so own his own, in order prevent such a situation from wreaking havoc with their carefully laid plans regarding Magnussen.</p>
<p>And the more he thought about it, he came to realise that Magnussen might actually be the answer to his predicament, if he was willing to be really devious about it himself.</p>
<p>Because Victor’s biggest weakness was his inability to trust those he perceived as a threat to his relationship with Sherlock and he had focused mainly on John in his pursuit. But in reality, there was someone else who might be more deserving of that attention, someone who Victor normally seemed to trust, but who repeatedly had broken that trust for a long period of time.</p>
<p>Sherlock had talked very little about Magnussen’s visits to his bedchamber, never going into any specific details, but he had mentioned that Mycroft’s security cameras always monitored them in case Magnussen would slip up and say something they could use against him. </p>
<p>He had unfortunately never done so, and as Mycroft certainly didn’t want to watch his brother being sexually abused on film, the job of going through the material had been delegated to his personal assistant, the woman John had met only few times since befriending the Holmes brothers.</p>
<p>These visits to Sherlock’s bedroom were kept secret from Victor of course, as not even Magnussen was particularly keen to deal with a livid and jealous husband-to-be. </p>
<p>And this was the part John realised was a detail that perhaps could work to his advantage. </p>
<p>Instead of focusing on John, wasn’t it better if Victor’s attention was turned towards the real culprit among them? </p>
<p>If Victor was to be told of Magnussen’s deceit, it was bound to cause a disturbance between the two blackmailers. Surely a rift between Magnussen and Victor Trevor could only be a positive development?</p>
<p>The more John thought about it, the more advantages did he see.</p>
<p>Divide and conquer, as the saying went, and by turning Victor’s attention on Magnussen in order to get himself away from Victor’s focus, the aftermath of such a revelation would cause Magnussen an even bigger headache than what they were already planning to give him.</p>
<p>As John cycled through the night, the cold wind biting his cheeks, he began plotting how he was going to go about letting Victor know what exactly Magnussen had been up to behind his back and if a nagging little voice inside his head reminded him that it was unwise to scheme without involving Sherlock, a much stronger voice told him that this was simply a precautionary measure, for his own safety, not something he deliberately was trying to keep from his fellow-schemer. </p>
<p>Because, as Sherlock had pointed out, tonight had been their final time together before the plan to take Magnussen down would be executed. They had no way of communicating directly, so even if John had wished to include Sherlock on these new plans, he had no way of doing so. </p>
<p>Quite content with this solution, John put in some additional energy into making the final distance back to the barrack, satisfied with tonight’s events, both the plotting he had done with Sherlock, as well as this new idea he had thought of himself. </p>
<p>A warm feeling spread inside his chest as he pedalled through the cold darkness of the night, a feeling of pure excitement as well as giddiness accompanied him all the way home for a few hours of well deserved rest before events were going to be kicked into action by tomorrow morning. </p>
<p>As he crashed into bed, the last thing his tired mind remembered was the image of Sherlock perched on top of that crate, with his legs crossed, his elegant hands moving as he spoke and his eyes sparkling with excitement. </p>
<p>A minute later John was already deeply asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. The curtain rises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had to split the original chapter into two parts as it was far too long, the next part will be up by tomorrow.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Magnussen was sitting in an armchair, sipping a cup of black coffee, still dressed in his night gown, watching a young girl standing on all four over by the left corner of the room, scrubbing at a stain on the floor quite ferociously. </p>
<p>She was not permitted to stop until he had specifically said so and she had been at it quite relentlessly a good twenty minutes by now, her arms moving mechanically with the washcloth over the shiny surface. Whatever spot he had initially made her clean-up had vanished a long time ago by now, but he did enjoy the look of torture her face conveyed on account of the probably very arduous movements of her arms. So he just kept her going, wondering which body part was going to start trembling first, her knees or her hands.</p>
<p>There was a knock on the door and one of his servants brought his phone in on a tray. The phone was buzzing quite incessantly and with a suppressed sigh Magnussen reached out to pick it up.</p>
<p>It was that woman working at the Holmes residence who provided him with useful information from time to time.</p>
<p>He cast a quick glance at the clock. Not even eight in the morning. What could this be all about?</p>
<p>He cast a regretful look at the girl on the floor, not yet done with his game but also realising that there were other things of importance that demanded his attention, then he waived her away along with the servant. </p>
<p>The girl almost tripped over her shoes hurrying out of the room and he felt something twitch in his face at the sigh to of it. These insignificant little people with their funny ways of conducting themselves, like helpless worms ready to be devoured by a hungry crow, he though before he finally decided to pick up his phone and answer it.</p>
<p>“It’s about the younger brother, an ambulance arrived and took him away,” a voice hurriedly explained as soon as he had uttered his greeting phrase.</p>
<p>Magnussen froze for a second. The woman at the other end knew not to speak until specifically told to do so and the silence stretched out as he contemplated this piece of information. </p>
<p> “What else?” he finally asked after what felt like an eternity.</p>
<p>“He was unconscious, someone said coma but I’m not sure. They’re taking him to some fancy place where the older one has connections and is paying for his care. The ambulance looked different than what they usually look like, but sounded just like they all do, woke the whole house up when it arrived.”</p>
<p>“I see.”</p>
<p>Another pause. Magnussen ran his finger along the rim of his cup as he contemplated this piece of news for a second.</p>
<p>“Did Mycroft Holmes go along with his brother in the ambulance?”</p>
<p>“No, he stayed in the house. He is locked up in his office, has told no one to disturb him. He looked very....I don’t know, motionless I guess would be a good word. I think he was shocked. It all just happened so quickly. All of a sudden that loud sound of the ambulance arriving, people rushing in, carrying the unconscious body out on a stretcher and I tell you, at first I thought he had actually died. Pale as sheet in the face, didn’t even look as if he was breathing. But I heard the ambulance crew talk between themselves, he was alive when they left. It was apparently drug related. Massive overdose caused by something called a speedball. I don’t know what that is, but like I said, I thought he was dead at first.”</p>
<p>“Who alerted the ambulance?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, I woke up from the sound of it arriving. But I guess it must have been the older brother. Possibly his P.A, she was there when I came down. She is usually around when things happen. She was also at the house that time when Dr Watson walked out in the middle of the night, don’t know how she always manages to be around, I have never seen her occupying one of the guest rooms and she certainly isn’t sleeping in the same bed as her employer....”</p>
<p>“Leave the theorizing to me. Your job is merely to give me information, not trying to think.”</p>
<p>“No, Sir,” came a somewhat affronted reply.</p>
<p>“Is there something else that would be of interest for me to know about? Any other developments? Has Mr Trevor been informed of this yet?”</p>
<p>“Not that I know of, Sir. As I said, Mr Holmes went straight to his office and locked himself up in there, haven’t seen him since the ambulance took off.”</p>
<p><i>And you’re not clever enough to figure out what’s going on beneath the surface</i>, Magnussen dryly noted and then dismissed her by ending the call.</p>
<p>He allowed himself a deep sigh because this was troubling news and not to his liking at all. </p>
<p>What was Sherlock playing at?</p>
<p>The fact that Mycroft had remained at the house and the ambulance that supposedly came from a private clinic still had opted to use sirens to alert its arrival at such an early hour of the day, especially in the area where Mycroft lived that didn’t have a lot of disturbing traffic that needed to be told about an incoming emergency vehicle, made this whole situation sound very suspicious.</p>
<p> On the other hand, Sherlock was a capricious creature, unpredictable and prone to rash decisions at all hours of the day and fully capable of overdosing in a spectacular manner if that was something he for some reason wanted to do, even if he prided himself for his logical thinking. </p>
<p>He was no Mycroft Holmes of course. Mycroft had the brain of a whole intelligence network whereas Sherlock was more like a single computer, efficient and decidedly clever, smarter than most people, but also suffering from glitches to the system from time to time. Was this one of those times or had the brothers once again decided that Magnussen’s weight of knowledge was too oppressive and had arranged to get some breathing space from his demands by performing a staged vanishing act? </p>
<p>Either option was actually possible and this early in the morning it was tiresome to decide which alternative was the most annoying. </p>
<p>He certainly didn’t want to lose his hold on Sherlock who had managed to be quite an entertaining distraction, surprising even Magnussen himself who normally grew bored with toys pretty quickly. </p>
<p>And he also didn’t want to lose his leverage over Mycroft. </p>
<p>Granted, he still had the missile plans and the threat of reveal to hang over Mycroft’s head even if Sherlock died. The question was if Mycroft would care as much about his own fate if he lost his brother forever? </p>
<p>Magnussen was well aware that Mycroft Holmes only pressure point in this life was Sherlock and without him, Mycroft was a blank card with unknown qualities.</p>
<p>So preferably, Magnussen didn’t want Sherlock to die.</p>
<p>But he also didn’t want this to be some sort of effort to remove Sherlock from the game while simultaneously preparing for an attack because that always meant that he had to stay more alert, prepared for whatever those two devils had plotted against him. And his only alliance in this situation was Victor Trevor who didn’t amount to much. </p>
<p>He rose from his chair and untied the knot of the dressing gown, allowing it to fall in a heap on the floor before walking out of the room. </p>
<p>More information was needed. </p>
<p>For starters he should try to find out where Mycroft might have taken his precious little brother and then see what else could be gleaned from that information. As he had told Sherlock himself earlier, it didn’t matter if the young man was locked up in a facility somewhere, seemingly out of reach, because there would always be a way for Magnussen to gain admittance even to the most tightly secured institution. The issue was just to figure out its location.</p>
<p>Beyond this sudden turn of events, there was also the visit from John Watson awaiting him this evening. </p>
<p>Now there was a supple opportunity for new leverage depending on what the doctor had to offer him. The downside to it was that considering recent developments Dr Watson’s contributions could turn out to be useless if Sherlock was no longer available as a pressure point in the game. </p>
<p>Watson’s information was probably of a shadier variety than Victor’s refined nugget about the missile plans, although ironically they were both scorned lovers who had turned bitter and resentful and thereby willing to spill the beans about Sherlock. The difference was the quality of intel and in this particular case Victor surpassed John Watson by miles, unless Magnussen had completely underestimated the doctor and he actually had something unexpected to reveal.</p>
<p> In any case it would be interesting to see if he would be willing to negotiate and what he had to bargain with. </p>
<p>Whatever John Watson was going to tell him tonight, at least it was bound to be exciting. </p>
<p>But the dilemma of Sherlock’s sudden departure from the scene was a troublesome throwback and something he needed to take a closer look at. </p>
<p>No time to remain lingering at home when there was work to be done and with determined steps he walked towards his bathroom to prepare himself for what the day had on offer. </p>
<p>Hopefully by evening he would have gotten a better view of the unexpected situation and perhaps even a new leverage to dangle over the Holmes brother’s heads now that the initial threat had soon run its course.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>------------------------------------------------------</p>
</div>Twenty minutes before his workday was about to start, John did what he had decided to do last night regarding Victor Trevor.<p>He had spent a lot of his morning, while taking his usual swim in the lake, contemplating the easiest way to go about it and as he didn’t have any way of getting in contact with Victor in person, he had been forced to get inventive.</p>
<p> He realised that the timing might be abysmal as Victor was by now probably wringing his hands anxiously regarding Sherlock’s state and it felt a bit much adding to that burden by dropping news like this on him, but John also knew that if he didn’t do it now, who knew when a better time would come. </p>
<p>Victor was a loose cannon even under normal circumstances and probably even more so right now, John was not prepared to face the impact of that temper yet again if he could avoid it.</p>
<p>So he had penned down a small letter, in succinct words, informing the other man what Magnussen had been up to and directing his attention to Mycroft’s surveillance as proof of the validity of his words. </p>
<p>He didn’t sign the letter as he realised that Victor would probably doubt the content if it came from him. Instead he kept it as formal and to the point as he possibly could, put it in a plain envelope with no traces of where it came from, wrote Victor’s name and the word urgent on it and then pushed it inside Mr Rudd’s in tray before the man had arrived.</p>
<p>Satisfied that he had done what he could at the moment, he hoped this would create the desired rift between Victor and Magnussen as well as get himself off Victor’s radar so he could focus on his own dealings with Magnussen. </p>
<p>When he had done what he had set out to do, John figured that he could perhaps talk to Mycroft about sparing Victor from a death sentence, but for now he had other things to occupy his time and as the letter was disposed of, Victor Trevor was no longer the focus of his attention as the time for his meeting with Magnussen began to engage his thoughts instead.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>------------------------------------------------------</p>
</div>As much as Mycroft knew that Sherlock’s coma was only an act, it still felt uncomfortable contemplating that there had once been a time when such a state could actually have become reality.<p>His biggest concern this moment was not his brother though, but a whole other level of discomfort in the shape of a familiar figure marching towards him in angry strides from the entrance door less than two hours after the hired ambulance had left the premises.  </p>
<p>Mycroft had been forced to make the call to this person even if it had irked him to do so. But everyone concerned needed to be informed of the newest development.</p>
<p>And now, Victor was positively fuming.</p>
<p>“Why wasn’t I told earlier?”</p>
<p>Mycroft steeled himself for the expected onslaught and made sure to arrange his facial features into cool patience.</p>
<p>“He asked me specifically to keep you out of it and I’m afraid I went with his wishes.”</p>
<p>“And look where it has landed him now. If he dies, I will hold you personally responsible, Mycroft!”</p>
<p>A pair of hands were held out in a placating gesture towards the agitated young man.</p>
<p>“Victor calm down. There can be nothing constructive about blaming each other for Sherlock’s decisions. It was out of our hands all along.”</p>
<p>“But I don’t understand how this could have happened? Where did he get the drugs? Why wasn’t he more closely supervised? I thought your house was a veritable Fort Knox! Wasn’t that the very reason why he stayed with you until our wedding?”</p>
<p>“No one is as clever as my brother when it comes to getting his way. I have no idea where he got the drugs from and right now it doesn’t matter. All I care about is him waking up from his comatose state, the rest can be dealt with later. “</p>
<p>Victor gave him a glare of disbelief because Mycroft not descending like a thunderstorm upon everything regarding this unfortunate situation was exceedingly surprising to grasp. </p>
<p>As Sherlock’s overprotective brother it was unusual for Mycroft not to overreact and try to get to the bottom of things as quickly as possible, and Mycroft knew that he should try to act his part a little more convincingly, but this morning it felt like a herculean feat to do so, especially as he knew what the situation really was like. He was not a great actor like his brother, at least not when it came to emotional outbursts.  Hopefully, Victor would write it off as him being in shock if he behaved out of character.  And after a few seconds of suspiciously staring at him, Victor didn’t push the subject any further for now. </p>
<p>“When do I get to see him?” he asked instead.</p>
<p>Mycroft shook his head slightly.</p>
<p>“I don't know. Not even I am allowed to visit him at the moment when he is in such a critical condition. We will simply have to wait and hope for the best. The doctor will call me as soon as they know what’s going to happen.”</p>
<p>This only increased Victor’s rage even further.</p>
<p>“No! I’m not accepting this! I demand to see him!” </p>
<p>“Victor, please....”</p>
<p>“If you don’t want me to unleash Magnussen right this second you better bring me to him!”</p>
<p>Mycroft sighed but otherwise remained stoically calm in the face of the furious man in front of him. </p>
<p>“As much as I detest the idea of being confronted by Magnussen at this early hour and under such horrible circumstances, there is still nothing I can do to prevent you if that is really what you intend to do, even if I highly doubt Mr Magnussen’s willingness to be used as some sort of weapon to be whipped out whenever convenient. At the end of the day, it still won’t get you access to Sherlock. Do you really think I would be here if I was allowed to be by his side?”</p>
<p>“I have no idea, Mycroft. Because all I’ve seen ever since I first met you is a man intent on trying to dupe me into losing what’s mine! I know you’ve never warmed to me and that is of no true importance in my opinion as I’ve hardly warmed to the coldest man in England in return, but I will not allow you to deny me the right to see him, or so help me God I will unleash everything I know about you and it will end with your name attached to a scandal of such enormous proportions that you won’t be able to ever rise from it again.”</p>
<p>Mycroft couldn’t help but narrow his eyes slightly at this tiresome threat that was hurled at him from time to time whenever Victor didn’t have his way regarding one thing or another.</p>
<p>“If you drag me down, you’ll end up dragging Sherlock down as well. Is that really what you want?” he coldly pointed out, although he realised that he needed to try pacifying Victor to some extent or the man might actually accomplish what he threatened to do, out of pure spite. “If you just calm down, I’m sure you will be able to see that we share the same predicament. I’m not allowed to be by his side right now and neither are you, however much you may want to. The doctors will keep us updated when they know more and, in the meantime, we have no other option but to wait.”</p>
<p>Seemingly realising that he wasn’t likely to get a different answer no matter how much he tried, Victor decided to attack a different subject instead, clearly still looking for some explanation to how things had gone so terrible wrong in such a short amount of time. </p>
<p>“Seems like ever since Dr Watson left, things have been unravelling in an alarming pace. Has this something to do with him, perhaps?” </p>
<p>His eyes suddenly glimmered as a thought hit him and Mycroft felt the urgent need to supress an eye-roll as he could practically feel the direction Victor’s thoughts were going now.</p>
<p>“What’s the real reason behind his resignation, Mycroft? You never even bothered telling me he had quit. I had to find out from the man himself.”</p>
<p>Mycroft gave his future brother-in-law a withering stare.</p>
<p>“You want to talk about Dr Watson right now, while your fiancé’s life is hanging by a thread?”</p>
<p>“Why not? As you said, what else is there to do but wait? Might as well pass the time by getting some answers to a few burning questions I’ve been pondering as of late. Unless there is something you’re trying to keep from me, dear brother in law?”</p>
<p>Those last words were uttered with a despicably sweet voice dripping with sarcasm and Mycroft pursed his lips at the obvious dig at his ability to stick to the truth. </p>
<p>Victor had been right in that there had never been any love lost between them, but they had conducted their dislike of each other with far more effort previously, but just like everything else around him had suffered a tendency to crumble to pieces as of late, so was their willingness to keep up the pretence of cordiality.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he concluded through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>He then turned on his heels and began walking across the hall towards the library. </p>
<p>If he was going to do this, he was in a dire need of something invigorating from one of the decanters on his drinks trolley despite the early hour. </p>
<p>He had not yet had the pleasure of enjoying his breakfast but as he had been up several hours already, it didn’t feel out of the question to take a sip or two from the Laphroaig he had available whenever he needed its soothing effect on his nerves. Whatever was necessary to get past this visit that he feared could take hours, depending on Victor’s unpredictable temper and inquisitive investigation.</p>
<p>As he had poured himself as well as his guest a glass each, he seated himself comfortably in one of the armchairs opposite Victor who had planted himself in the other one and then Mycroft  delivered the very edited version he and Sherlock had agreed upon whenever asked about John’s resignation, quickly followed by the story of Sherlock’s newly developed but seemingly spiralling drug abuse. He made sure to put as little detail into both subjects as possible so there could be nothing for Victor to latch onto and create own conspiracies out of. He also made sure that one issue had nothing whatsoever to do with the other.</p>
<p>Mycroft also made the effort to not stoke the flames of Victor’s jealousy any further by mentioning details that could question John’s motives for leaving and bring about another impromptu visit to the barrack with a gun. </p>
<p>Sherlock had told Mycroft about the whole alarming incident of Victor seeking out John Watson in the middle of the night, waving a weapon at him and Mycroft had contemplated filing an anonymous report to the police about an illegal firearm being in Victor’s possession, but had then decided against it for now. </p>
<p>Besides, he had other plans for Victor that were much more in line with the sort of punishment Mycroft envisioned for a person who had put not only him but also his brother through the ordeal Victor had managed to torture them with. </p>
<p>So far, Victor was still operating under Magnussen’s protection and a measly gun charge was hardly going to solve anything for them, merely aggravate Victor even more. But eventually, the man was going to get what was coming to him.</p>
<p>The remaining two and half hours before Victor impatiently left the house, were ghastly in Mycroft’s opinion and probably also in Victor’s. </p>
<p>It had been a veritable rollercoaster ride of ups and downs in a manner never previously experienced by Mycroft. </p>
<p>As he contemplated the person he had talked to mere weeks ago, it was baffling to realise how Victor’s unravelling had begun to pick up the pace now, as once there had been a somewhat distinguished young man, however full of hot airs, he had at least managed to conduct himself in an orderly fashion. Despicable to the bone but still fit to engage with in a respectable manner. </p>
<p>This part of Victor Trevor that now had presented itself to Mycroft, was something completely different. </p>
<p>Tormented by some sort of anguished despair caused by fear of losing Sherlock, combined with the frankly ridiculous fantasies based on his fanatic jealousy regarding John Watson, topped with moments of pure anger for having everything falling apart around him, made sitting across Victor in the library, whiskey or not to aid him, a nerve-wracking experience for Mycroft who had faced vicious dictators with less excruciating personality traits.</p>
<p>Shortly before Victor’s departure, the man hired to act as Sherlock’s physician, had called to inform them that Sherlock was still unconscious and remained under life threatening conditions whereupon Victor had managed to lose whatever resolve he had left, swiped his arm out to throw the crystal decanter containing the whiskey to the floor, smashing it into a million tiny little pieces scattering like diamonds on the carpet between them before rushing out of the house, slamming the door in his wake. </p>
<p>Mycroft had drawn a hand across his face in exasperation at the sight of it, eying the shards of glass scattered in front of him as well as the liquid seeping into the carpet. Then he had redialled the number in order to talk to Sherlock. </p>
<p>This situation was close to unbearable if this was how Victor was going to behave from now on, until the business with Magnussen came to an end. </p>
<p>It annoyed him that all of it was now hanging on the very inexperienced shoulders of Dr John Watson and he prayed that the man’s meeting with Magnussen tonight might at least generate a quick end to this ordeal.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>------------------------------------------------------</p>
</div>Even if Sherlock had prepared him last night, it still came as a slight shock when John around noon was reached by the news that Sherlock had fallen into a drug induced coma caused by an overdose and had been collected by an ambulance in the early morning hours to be rushed to a private clinic for intensive care.<p>The way he was informed of this was during his lunch break where there was an incessant buzzing going on among the other men and when he finally managed to catch the gist of what they were talking about he wondered how they knew any of this. </p>
<p>Then he realised that Mycroft, by using the very noticeable aid of a wailing ambulance to arrive at the house at such an early hour of the morning so that no one would be able to miss it, had created the perfect fodder for gossip that he had then allowed to spread from his own household staff to those working at the facility, making sure that John would be updated simply by being in close proximity to the people who allowed this piece of information to run like wildfire amongst them. </p>
<p>Mycroft knew all about discretion and how to act according to it, as John was well aware of, so this was decidedly a carefully arranged tactic.</p>
<p>“He was always a bit of a wild one, that younger brother,” a man to his left said to the others gathered around the lunch table. </p>
<p>This was the first time John had heard any of them mention the Holmes brothers, but he realised that they probably knew a lot more than they had let on during his time working here. </p>
<p>He had always been under the impression that no one spoke of anything related to gossip, that most of them remained mum about things associated with their boss, he had certainly never heard anyway talk about either Mycroft nor Sherlock before. </p>
<p>But now he realised that these people had a lot of opinions and where not shy about venting them.</p>
<p>“Wonder what the fiancé is going to say? Hard to believe there is going to be a wedding in a couple of weeks when things like this are happening.”</p>
<p>“For him to end up in a coma he must have taken a lot!”</p>
<p>“That Trevor bloke is going to go ballistic, I swear. He always acts so superior when visiting this place but he looks like one step away from the cuckoo’s nest whenever something doesn’t go his way.”   </p>
<p>“Remember that time when junior got caught breaking into Rudd’s office and the boss came to retrieve him? All I’m saying is that I’m lucky I wasn’t in his shoes when I saw the boss’s face! And if he was spitting back then, imagine what it’s like this time around!”</p>
<p>“I always knew that little wanker would end up over his head in some mess, always came off as a right looney whenever I happened upon him.”</p>
<p>“Remember when he told Rudd his whole life story after no more than a second of staring at him. Still don’t know how he pulled that off.”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t there that incident a while back, when an ambulance actually came here? I just knew it was related to him.”</p>
<p>The man to his left turned to look at John.</p>
<p>“You were involved with that. Was it drugs that time as well?”</p>
<p>“Erm, no.....I don’t’ actually....know.”</p>
<p>John suddenly realised that Sherlock never had told him the circumstances surrounding their first meeting and what it was that had caused that anaphylactic shock. As it had not been on account of a wasp sting, what had it been about? </p>
<p>It also surprised him that he had never thought to ask about it later. Perhaps he truly had been too smitten from the very beginning to start prying into that business and then it must have slipped his mind.</p>
<p>When next seeing Sherlock, he was going to ask him about it.</p>
<p>The other men looked sceptical about his ignorance.</p>
<p>“How can you not know? You were there and you got your assignment from the boss straight after. You’ve spent a lot of time together, a couple of times a week at least, surely you must have picked up a thing or two....”</p>
<p>“Sorry, I just went there to perform health checks, nothing more. I have no idea what this is about.”</p>
<p>“Was he on drugs when you met him?”</p>
<p>And so forth it went on for the rest of the lunchbreak. </p>
<p>John became privy to some really weird anecdotes involving Sherlock and his shenanigans in connection to this place as well as the research facility, mainly concerning breaking into places where he had no reason to be. </p>
<p>Sometimes he got caught, like the time he had apparently decided to break into Mr Rudd’s office and had been brought out of there kicking and screaming by a furious Mycroft, dragging him by his shirt. Sherlock had not been very old back then, not even out of his teenage years if some of the men around the table were to be believed, and he had been high as a kite as well. </p>
<p>But there had also been instances when he had not been caught but he had left little greetings in his wake instead, like a spray-painted smiley face on an impossibly high ledge in the ceiling or a complicated computer virus that had played the canny sound of someone laughing before the whole computer system had crashed down. </p>
<p>It was never proven to be Sherlock who had been behind those so-called pranks, but on the other hand, who else could it be?</p>
<p>The only common factor had been that these events had taken place some years ago, when Sherlock had been younger and most likely still doing drugs. No one recalled when they had stopped but John had an idea that it might have been after the botched-up theft of the missile plans, although Sherlock had continued with his drug abuse some time after that as well. </p>
<p>It still left him curious as to why Sherlock had conducted another break-in on the day when John had first met him, so many years after the first ones.</p>
<p>As he finished up his lunch, he left the others to talk amongst themselves for the remaining time as he went outside to catch a well-deserved breath of fresh air while contemplating what Sherlock was up to right now. </p>
<p>If the ambulance had arrived early in the morning and the two of them had separated from the cottage well past midnight, there could hardly have been many hours of sleep. But knowing Sherlock’s deplorable eating-and sleeping habits, that was hardly surprising. </p>
<p>John suddenly realised that he missed Sherlock terribly and a pang of longing hit him as he stood on the abandoned courtyard looking up at the sunlit sky above his head, wondering when they were going to meet each other again. The conception of “if” was not something he was willing to contemplate. </p>
<p>Soon he hoped, as he squinted his eyes, looking at a cloud floating by, trying not to think about his meeting with Magnussen tonight. A part of him wanted it to happen because it would mean one step closer to the end of this, but another part of him worried that he was somehow going to botch things up. </p>
<p>He took a deep breath and collected himself, straightened his back as well as his shoulders in resolution. Enough of the wallowing, eyes on the prize and just get on with it, Captain Watson, he thought, bracing himself for whatever was going to happen as he stepped into Magnussen’s office tonight.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>------------------------------------------------------</p>
</div>The car came promptly and took him to Magnussen’s office so that he arrived exactly five minutes before seven.<p>The building where the media mogul resided was, as would be expected, a towering construction with a rotating sign at the roof top with the letters CAM announcing to the world who the owner of this corporation was, all in line with how John had remembered his home to be, the very opposite of Mycroft’s humble discretion regarding details and the wish to remain anonymous. </p>
<p>Magnussen seemed more interested in shouting out his dominance and taste for opulence and with that thought in mind, John was greeted at the entrance by a woman in such a strikingly lilac tight-fitting dress and staggeringly high-heeled shoes that John at first didn’t take her for Magnussen’s P.A but a woman stepping out of a fashion spread. </p>
<p>Her personality was surprisingly bubbly and quite the opposite to the way Magnussen carried himself that John for a second felt baffled that the businessman had opted for such a lively, talkative woman as a member of his team.  </p>
<p>She took him through a maze of security gates and a glass elevator that could only be accessed by a keycard and John secretly wondered how Sherlock had managed to gain entry to this place to establish that the vault wasn’t kept here. </p>
<p>That question didn’t remain a mystery for long though, because as they walked the intricate route to Magnussen’s private office, the P.A was constantly babbling and the subject of London and its brutal dating scene was apparently something that had stuck in her mind quite firmly. </p>
<p>“Do you date, Dr Watson?” she said, a quick glance thrown at his left hand, probably checking for a ring in the least discreet manner possible.</p>
<p>“Erm, no. Not at the moment,” he muttered, trying to stay in character as the jilted lover he was going to present to Magnussen soon enough. He wondered if she knew his business here tonight or if the topic of conversation had been accidental. </p>
<p>Maybe Magnussen was already testing him?</p>
<p>“Been badly hurt, have you?” she continued, her heels clattering against the floor as they walked, swiping a card through the umptieth gate they had to pass. </p>
<p>“Something like that.”</p>
<p>“I know exactly what you mean. It’s a brutal world out there and when you reach a certain age....” </p>
<p>John cast her a quick glance, furrowing his brown. What age was she talking about? She was hardly considered a woman past her prime. </p>
<p>“....well let just say it’s difficult finding the perfect one amongst all those idiots walking the streets. And London is stressful as it is for an Irish girl like me who comes from a small town on the countryside. No one here wants to settle down, always looking for a better option.”</p>
<p>Reluctant to continue talking, John just nodded absently, trying not to encourage her to inform him of further personal misfortunes. He wanted to concentrate on his meeting with Magnussen that he suspected could turn out to be a tricky affair. </p>
<p>But no such luck.</p>
<p>“I actually thought I had found Mr Right about six months ago. Had the whole package – the looks, the manners, the fit body, had this really sexy, deep voice that just made my body tingle, if you know what I mean. And came from money as well. You could tell from the way he spoke that he must have gone to one of those expensive private schools, he knew how to carry himself properly. Unlike most other men I’ve dated.”</p>
<p>“Mmhmm” John was struggling to tune her out by now. </p>
<p>Why did people feel the need to share everything these days? Was there nothing called privacy left in the world?</p>
<p>But perhaps that concept had been wiped away when you started working for a man like Magnussen who had based his whole enterprise on revealing the most private darkest secrets imaginable. That probably messed with the perception of what to share and what to keep to yourself.</p>
<p>“We even got engaged!” she continued, not even checking if John was paying any attention to what she was telling him. “He showed up at the office one evening when I was working late, and the boss wasn’t around. Just took me completely by surprise, and I’m not really supposed to bring people in when the boss isn’t around but how was I supposed to refuse him when he had those puppy eyes and that box with a ring inside it, held up in front of the security camera like the prettiest present I’ve ever been offered. </p>
<p>I know, I know, in hindsight it was stupid, I would never dream of telling the boss about buzzing someone in, in his absence, but I suppose you could say that I was off my rockers a bit that night. The guy really had me wrapped around his fingers and I honestly believed him when he said that I was the most special person he had ever met.”</p>
<p>There was a hitch to her voice now and John felt alarm rising inside of him that she was suddenly going to burst into tears. </p>
<p>Crying women were not his speciality, he always felt some unexplainable need to calm them down with a terrible track record of always failing to do so, and he couldn’t walk into Magnussen’s office with a P.A on the verge of tears, looking as if he had been the one to cause them.</p>
<p>Luckily she didn’t seem like she was going to break just yet and John wondered if he should ask for the conclusion of the story or just remain quiet and ignore the whole situation, uncertain of what would make her snap out of it most quickly.</p>
<p>He decided that the proper thing to do was to at least express some sort of polite comfort and did so by quietly mumbling one without looking at her while doing so.</p>
<p>She didn’t seem content by his words though but instead just rambled on about the prick of a man who had scorned her. </p>
<p>“The worst thing is that I don’t know why he broke it off with me. The very next day, after he gave me the ring. Can you imagine!”</p>
<p>“That does sound like quite a shitty thing to do. You’re probably better off without someone like that in your life,” John calmly offered.</p>
<p>“That’s what my mother said. But I can’t help it that I miss him sometimes. You should have seen him, he looked like a proper gentleman, always dressed in a suit. Mind you, not one of those stuffy ones, but sexy and tight-fitting, probably bespoke even if I never got around to ask him about it. He looked like he had been poured into it, you know, suiting that fit body like a glove or something.”</p>
<p><i>Like Sherlock and his tight-fitting attire</i>, John thought with fondness, the second before his brain caught up with his own words and he almost stopped short in his tracks from shock.</p>
<p>Surely not...?</p>
<p>Because what would be the odds of that being the case?</p>
<p>But on the other hand, Sherlock had said that he had made sure that the vault had not been located in Magnussen’s office and considering the high security of this place, how had he managed to get past all these gates to establish that conclusion with such certainty? </p>
<p>Unless someone had helped him gain access of course, someone with the ability to do so and who also had the intel about Magnussen’s comings and goings for him to know when to visit the man’s office for a proper search when Magnussen wasn’t there.</p>
<p>Someone like a P.A.</p>
<p>But would Sherlock really be mad enough to actually get engaged to Magnussen’s P.A just for the opportunity to search for the vault?</p>
<p>To his rising dismay John realised that however awful that sounded, there was a possibility that the answer to that question was yes. </p>
<p>Considering her boyfriend’s strange behaviour of calling the whole thing off the very next day, it sounded like something Sherlock would probably do once establishing that he had gotten what he was after. </p>
<p>Cruel to the bone considering how upset the woman still seemed to be about it and knowing from personal experience what it was like to stare into those magnetic eyes Sherlock had, falling hard for what he was offering, blind to his lies, John felt a sudden surge of anger on her behalf even if the reason behind the deceit had been a valid effort at breaking free from Magnussen’s shackles. </p>
<p>Trying not to show his growing suspicions manifest themselves on his face, he discreetly tried to dig for further information without revealing the reason behind it.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t sound like such a gentleman if he ditched you the very next day. Didn’t he offer any sort of explanation?”</p>
<p>“He just called and said that I could keep the ring but that he wasn’t ready to take the plunge, that it had to do with him and not me, that he needed time to figure himself out first, making it sound like he was reading straight out of some breakup manual or something.”</p>
<p><i>He probably did</i>, John wryly thought and supressed an internal sigh.</p>
<p>“Sounds like a loser if you ask me. My sister had a similar experience awhile back, a bloke who seemed like the genuine deal and then turned cold from one day to the next. Maybe it was the same one? What did you say yours looked like?”</p>
<p>Sher gave John a questioning look, as if she found it hard to believe that any sister of his would attract the attention of her enigmatic former fiancé. </p>
<p>She wasn’t completely wrong on that account but not for the reasons she assumed. Harry had been openly gay since the age of thirteen and was by now so deeply buried in alcoholism that finding anyone willing to date her would be inconceivable. </p>
<p>As they entered the elevator and she pushed the button to the top floor, she offered a more detailed description than what she had given earlier.</p>
<p>“Like I said before, he was properly fit, not overly muscly but really firm and slender. Tall. He had this kind of unusual face with pronounced cheekbones and pouty lips, lashes any girl would envy and a set of really dark silky curls.”</p>
<p>Mentally grinding his teeth at Sherlock’s audacity to resort to such a mean trick to achieve his goals, John quickly glanced at the panel on the wall to see how many floors were left to reach their destination before replying.</p>
<p>“No, my sister’s bloke was blond and short, so clearly not the same one then. Goes to show you that this can happen to anyone though and you shouldn’t waste time mourning someone like that. My sister certainly didn’t. She has a steady companionship these days and seems very content with that.”</p>
<p>If by steady companionship he meant bottles of Smirnoff vodka and Jim Bean Whiskey, he wasn’t technically telling a lie.</p>
<p>And with a distinct ding announcing their arrival to the top floor, the conversation was put to an end and they both arranged their facial features into something more professional as she walked out of the elevator first and showed him the way past her own desk over to a large door slightly ajar, leading to the room where Magnussen waited for them behind a huge desk in front of the spectacular view offered by his panoramic windows showcasing London by evening.</p>
<p>The time to conduct business was finally here and with a sense of resolve and finality, John stepped into the room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. The eleventh hour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Welcome, Dr Watson,” Magnussen offered without rising from his chair. </p>
<p>“Any refreshments?” his P.A was heard from the door, John already having forgotten about her as he was standing in front of Magnussen in person now, about to embark on his first try to lure the man into offering him an invitation to his house.</p>
<p>Magnussen waived her away without asking if John wanted anything. He had a glass of amber liquid in a crystal glass on the desk but was clearly not interested in offering his guest a glass of his own.</p>
<p>John heard the door close behind his back and the feeling of being alone, trapped with a viper in close confinement suddenly struck him as he looked at Magnussen seated behind his desk, clearly in full control of the situation, raising the glass to his lips for a sip.</p>
<p>“This brand costs close to 1500 pounds á ml and has quite a rich and delicious flavour for something so rare and hard to come by. It is the equivalent of that very special person that can cost a fortune and be a hardship to obtain but who turns out to be so satisfying to taste when the opportunity arises that it is worth everything you paid for it.”</p>
<p>Knowing what Magnussen did to Sherlock during his clandestine visits to the younger man’s bedchamber, it took all of John’s efforts not to clench his fists or allow a single detail in his appearance to reveal how he felt about these words.</p>
<p>Instead he went for calm indifference and shrugged before he walked over to a small sofa to get seated, not waiting for it to be offered to him. Like the beverage it was clear that Magnussen was not going to offer him anything.  </p>
<p>“I didn’t come here to talk about expensive drinks. I believe you had a proposition for me. Otherwise I’m wasting my time by being here.”</p>
<p>Magnussen took a final sip and then put the glass down again.</p>
<p>“Eager to do business? I like your determination, Dr Watson. But first, what is it that you hope to achieve by coming here tonight?”</p>
<p>John gave him an incredulous look.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t the one to initiate this meeting, Mr Magnussen. I came here under the pretence that you had something you wanted to talk to me about and now you’re acting like I was the one.....that I have some ulterior motive for being here....”</p>
<p>“I’m very well aware that I was the one to call you here, no need to get defensive. I was just curious about what you wee hoping to get out of this meeting. You have after all no idea what I have to propose and vice versa, I don’t know what you can offer me in return.”</p>
<p>John was already getting the feeling that Magnussen was trying to run circles around him to make him loose his footing, so he treaded very cautiously when he replied, thinking of Sherlock’s advice to stick to the script as far as possible.</p>
<p>“You spoke of some monetary exchange. For me to get back on my feet, resign from my current position, maybe move back home.”</p>
<p>“Yes, so I did. Have you had time to consider that proposition?”</p>
<p>Magnussen tilted his head slightly when looking at him, regarding him through his glasses as if looking at something infinitely peculiar. </p>
<p>John tried not to meet his eyes when he replied.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t find some merit to that idea. The question is what you’ll be wanting in return, Mr Magnussen.”</p>
<p>“Do you know what I do for a living, Dr Watson?”</p>
<p>Damn, another change of topic. This was likely going to be a long evening.</p>
<p>“Erhm, media?” John ventured hesitantly. “Newspapers I believe, something like that.”</p>
<p>“Sherlock never discussed it during one of your visits?” Magnussen almost looked disappointed.</p>
<p>“No why would that topic come up in conversation? I didn’t know who you were until I met you at the dinner party. Your world is not exactly my area.”</p>
<p>“Clearly. What I do, to put it bluntly, is that I deal with information in various capacities, from the news you see on tv or in the papers, to the gossip you might read online or hear about around the water cooler at work, but also the more personal information that every individual carries with them, things that they might not always be so willing to share with others because it would risk changing people’s opinion of them. And don’t we all have that dirty little secret that we wouldn’t share with just anyone, more likely just keep it to ourselves and pretend that it never happened. But there are advantages to be made from digging up these secrets, both to the provider of the information as well as the distributor. In this case that would be me. “</p>
<p>John was beginning to feel that he had no business being here, Magnussen was clearly interested in juicier things then the tales of a scorned lover if his own words were anything to go by.</p>
<p>“I have nothing like that to offer you. Nothing as titillating as what a celebrity or a person of influence could bring to the table.”</p>
<p>‘Magnussen suddenly smiled, his shark like teeth gleaning in his mouth as his lips parted.</p>
<p>“But you do. As you resigned so very hastily from your position as Sherlock’s physician, I assume there is a reason behind that decision. You hinted as much over the phone, even going so far as to regret ever accepting the job in the first place. That indicates some sort of wrongdoing on his part. Or perhaps it was his brother’s fault? Either way, I’m sure there is an interesting story behind it.”</p>
<p>“And why would that be of interest to you?”</p>
<p>“Depending on what your willing to tell me, even an insignificant piece of information could be useful for a man in my position. I deal with men like Mycroft Holmes on a daily basis and the only way to ever get the upper hand on people like that is if you have some sort of leverage over them, otherwise this country is built like a highly exclusive boys club where anyone from the outside has no chance of ever being invited to sit at their table. And from what I gathered over the phone, you’re not a fan of the Holmes brother’s anymore, so what difference would it make to you why I want your information?”</p>
<p>John realised that if he had been summoned here without being prepared in advance, this conversation would by now have gone in a completely different direction, most likely he would not have made the trip here in the first place. </p>
<p>But as he wanted to keep Magnussen hankering for what he could offer, he realised that he needed to take charge of the direction in which things were going and  begin dangling something  tempting in front of the other man to get the upper hand of the situation. Right now it felt like watching a snake coil its body in preparation for a strike and himself being its helpless prey.</p>
<p>
  <i>Keep to the script….</i>
</p>
<p>“What would my information be worth to you, if I was willing to do business?”</p>
<p>“Depending on the kind of information you have, a generous amount, sufficiently for you to quit your job and leave tomorrow if you wanted to start fresh somewhere else and forget that you ever heard the name Holmes.”</p>
<p>John nodded and put his hands on his knees as if he had made a decision. He hoped to project the image of someone who was ready to do business.</p>
<p>“I believe you had some questions for me. Why don’t you start by asking those and then we’ll see if what I have is what you are after?”</p>
<p>Magnussen smiled and leaned back in his chair.</p>
<p>“A reasonable suggestion.” He took another sip, watching John over the rim of his glass, allowing silence to stretch as if carefully considering what question to ask first. John knew it for the power play that it was. Mycroft used the same tactic, turning quiet and thereby unsettling the other person with his silence, so John supressed the impulse to say anything until Magnussen had broken the impasse.</p>
<p>As if realising that John wasn’t going to yield, Magnussen put his glass away and turned his chair to the side so he could look out the window instead, the nightline of London giving him a spectacular view.</p>
<p>“Was there ever anything inappropriate going on between you and your patient, Dr Watson?”</p>
<p>“Inappropriate in what way?”</p>
<p>“Come now, this isn’t a court hearing, no need to be so stingy with your replies. I think you know what I might be referring to. Considering that Sherlock is engaged to be married very shortly, did the two of you, despite that fact, engage in something inappropriate? Anything intimate?”</p>
<p>
  <i>In for a penny, in for a pound....</i>
</p>
<p>“We had sex, yes.”</p>
<p>Magnussen’s smile grew even wider and his eyes turned to look at John without actually moving his whole head.</p>
<p>“How did that come about?”</p>
<p>“Without giving away too much, he came on to me and I was happy to oblige, even if I would never have made the first move myself. I’m a professional doctor after all, engaging sexually with a patient is not something I’ve ever done before and never would do under normal circumstances. I was naïve enough to fall for his seductive skills and I’m afraid that I was too smitten to end it when I should have. It happened pretty early into the arrangement and it didn’t stop until I resigned.”</p>
<p>“There were rumours surrounding your relationship and I believe Mr Trevor was the most ardent believer of those rumours although he never could prove anything. Suffice to say, he was right for suspecting you to have ulterior motives for your visits?”</p>
<p>This accusation caused John to raise his voice for a second. </p>
<p>“It didn’t start out that way and I certainly didn’t go there with the intention to deceive anyone. I was still his doctor!”</p>
<p>“Whose reports quickly dwindled in quality according to everyone privy to reading them. Did you even bother to perform the most basic of tests in the end?”</p>
<p>Stick to the truth as much as possible, Sherlock had said last night and despite how much it pained John to admit this, he reluctantly agreed that he had not performed his duties properly.</p>
<p>“That brings me to another area of interest.” Magnussen turned around in his chair to face John again. “I’m not sure you have been informed of the latest development regarding your former patient’s health status? There has been a sudden change of events that occurred this very morning and which has given us all quite a shock. Especially his fiancé, who was not fully updated of this unfortunate deterioration of Sherlock’s health, mostly because Mycroft Holmes had not bothered to inform him of it.”</p>
<p>He paused and stared John down with an intensive gaze, drilling into his very core to see how John would react.</p>
<p>“Sherlock is currently suffering from a drug induced coma caused by an overdose and has been moved to a private facility where they are doing their best to bring him back from his unconscious state.”</p>
<p>Despite knowing this for the deception that it was, John couldn’t help but shiver at the idea of Sherlock lying lifeless in a bed somewhere, with the threat of never waking up again. He knew it was all a ruse, he had heard it from Sherlock’s own mouth last night, and yet it made him uncomfortable hearing it like this, spoken so bluntly by Magnussen. It had felt quite differently hearing his co-workers talk about it earlier today. Back then it had still felt like a game. </p>
<p>Now the game was no longer entertaining to him. </p>
<p>And he suddenly realised why Sherlock had tried bringing home the point of his bad acting skills. He couldn’t help but react out of instinct and if the description Magnussen had just given him hadn’t been so harshly voiced, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to react accordingly to such news without giving away that he knew they weren’t true.</p>
<p>So it was a blessing that his imagination had been allowed to run away with him for a second, creating that telling shudder, fully visible for Magnussen to notice and analyse to his heart’s content. It was a valid reaction to another person’s misfortune despite having turned bitter about their past, as was the role he was supposed to play tonight.</p>
<p>He realised that he needed for this meeting to wrap up quickly if he didn’t want to risk giving anything away under Magnussen’s analytical stare, the longer he stayed, the bigger chance that he would put his foot in his mouth somehow.</p>
<p>So he collected himself and spoke like a man wishing to move away from something uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“If you’re asking if I knew of his drug addiction, then I can say that I didn’t as long as we were romantically involved. But the minute I found out and confronted him about it I realised that he had duped me all along, keeping my attention preoccupied with sex so he could continue indulging his drug habit while having a doctor claiming that he was doing just fine, thereby never rising any suspicions from anyone else. He confirmed it himself on the night that I broke it off with him.”</p>
<p>“And can you corroborate any of this with some proof?”</p>
<p>“I have some mementos from our time together, also a few pictures on my phone. I’ve been meaning to dispose of them, but I haven’t....well there hasn’t really been any time....”</p>
<p>Magnussen nodded.</p>
<p>“Perfectly understandable. And in this case, quite fortunate for you.”</p>
<p>Wishing to wrap things up soon enough, John leaned forward a little bit and looked at Magnussen intently.</p>
<p>“So, is this enough for you to be willing to offer me something for it? If I corroborate my story with proof?”</p>
<p>“It is indeed interesting information and I’m sure there is more to it than what you’ve told me tonight. But I get the gist of it and it could be worth something I suppose.”</p>
<p>John got the distinct feeling that Magnussen was suddenly trying to backpaddle out of any previous promises by suddenly turning vague and he had to remind himself to keep his temper while fearing that he had revealed too much and thereby blowing his only chance of getting Magnussen to arrange for a second meeting. </p>
<p>In an effort to stifle the feeling of panic, he tried for a counterattack instead.</p>
<p>“If you’re not interested, this trip was clearly a waste of my time. I’m not desperate, you know. I don’t have to go along with anything. I was doing just fine before you called me.”</p>
<p>“Mm, perhaps. But circumstances have changed. What if Mycroft Holmes was made aware that you knew of his younger brother’s drug habits but didn’t inform anyone of them? I know from experience that he could easily make your life a living hell with a simple snap of his fingers. And just imagine if Sherlock actually dies? What then? Your information would become useless to me.”</p>
<p>John calmly rose from the sofa and began walking towards the door, in a last effort to force Magnussen to stop playing games. </p>
<p>John wasn’t willing to participate in whatever the other man was trying to pull  and the only way to discourage him from continuing to drag this out was to pretend that he was ready to leave, no agreement being made between them. He wasn’t going to allow Magnussen to intimidate him. </p>
<p>As he had almost reached the door, his hand moving towards the handle, he heard the sound of a chair being pushed behind his back and the steady steps of Magnussen approaching from behind made him release the pent-up tension that had been building up inside of him.</p>
<p>“Are you leaving already, Dr Watson? I thought we had a proposition to discuss.”</p>
<p>John made an indifferent shrug, turning his head to look at Magnussen over his shoulder, hand still holding the handle.</p>
<p>“You didn’t seem too interested in what I had to offer and I’m not sure that I’m willing to bargain with what I have anymore. Perhaps this wasn’t meant to be. “</p>
<p>“It’s not a twist of fate that decides what is meant to be. People make those decisions perfectly well on their own.”</p>
<p>“I realise that but I’m not sure that I’m all that interested in what you’re offering anymore. Seems like you don’t know what you’re willing to pay me and I don’t like hustling around like I’m working some street Bazaar trying to sell dodgy watches to a customer who doesn’t know what he wants.”</p>
<p>That predatory smile appeared once more on Magnussen lips as he kept walking closer to John where he was standing by the door.</p>
<p>“Come now, Dr Watson. I’m a businessman, trying to make a good deal is what I do for a living, can’t fault me from trying to get my money’s worth.”</p>
<p>“And that is the very reason why I’m beginning to hesitate doing business with you, Mr Magnussen. I’m not sure why exactly you’re interested in what I have to offer but from your insinuations I assume you want to stick it to the Holmes brothers. And that’s is fine by me, I have no loyalties towards them. But there is a sentimental aspect to all of this, nonetheless. Sherlock Holmes broke my heart. It can be quite difficult to put a prize on feelings. And as you mentioned, if he, God forbid, should pass away, I’m not sure that I....”</p>
<p>Magnussen raised a hand to make a vague dismissive gesture that signalled that he wasn’t interested in hearing anymore excuses.</p>
<p>“I’m being more than generous giving you this opportunity to strike a deal knowing that the circumstances have changed considerably.”</p>
<p>“Well, I want a day to think about it.”</p>
<p>Magnussen shook his head.</p>
<p>“A whole day could make a world of difference. By tomorrow I might not be willing to pay for what you are offering me tonight.”</p>
<p>John released his grip on the door handle and turned to face Magnussen, trying his best to still sound collected as he spoke.</p>
<p>“But I haven’t even brought anything with me to show you what I have.”</p>
<p>“I’m willing to take your word for it and pay you tonight and then you can give me what you owe me some other day.”</p>
<p>
  <i>No, no, no. </i>
</p>
<p>This needed to be postponed. John realised that he couldn’t strike up any deals tonight, he needed to get in contact with Mycroft who needed to tell Sherlock, or all of this would have been for nothing.</p>
<p>“Give me two hours. I can go back, collect my items, give this some final thought and then I’ll let you know of my decision.”</p>
<p>While talking, Magnussen had moved towards him the whole time and was now standing almost uncomfortably close. John wondered if the other man would be able to notice the panic he was experiencing beneath the calm surface he was trying to convey.</p>
<p>He tried to collect himself by turning his eyes away from Magnussen’s scrutinizing stare.</p>
<p>“Tell you what. Allow me this timeslot, just a little bit of leeway to think it through and I’ll meet you at your house at 22:30 tonight, how’s that? If you won’t give me a full day to think about this, at least grant me this. Otherwise I’m afraid that I’ll be forced to decline your offer. I’m just not comfortable making decisions, especially of this delicate nature, without the option to think them through.”</p>
<p>“Funny, I would have thought a war surgeon would be accustomed to the restrictions of a time table...”</p>
<p>“This is a personal matter. If you don’t know the distinction between personal and professional, Mr Magnussen, I’m afraid I can’t help you grasp the situation any better. There is nudity in some of the photos I have, I’m not just going to ruin a person’s life without thinking it through first.”</p>
<p>Magnussen looked at him with intense scrutiny as if trying to suss out if he was bluffing or not. It was clear that something about John had made him suspicious for some reason. But whatever it was, he didn’t manage to put a finger on it apparently, because after a moment of silent observation he finally nodded. </p>
<p>“Fine, Dr Watson. I’ll allow you until eleven o’clock tonight. My car will take you back and wait for you until you’re ready to meet with me again. For your sake I hope you’re not wasting my time.”</p>
<p>With that he turned his back on John, clearly dismissing him now that new arrangements had been made, walking back to his desk where he picked up his glass and downed the content in one go. How much money’s worth that disappeared down his throat in one go was clearly of no concern to him. </p>
<p>John didn’t waste another second in his presence and more or less stumbled out of the door and then walked briskly towards the elevator, praying that Sherlock would be amenable for a shorter timetable than they had planned for. </p>
<p>He had the distinct feeling that by thwarting Magnussen’s initial suggestion of coming to an arrangement straight away, had been to his own disadvantage and the opportunity to gain access to Magnussen’s house would forever be lost if he managed to somehow screw this up tonight.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>-----------------------------------------------</p>
</div>Victor was lounging on the sofa, admittedly a bit drunk by now, after an absolutely dreadful day, partly spent in Mycroft’s presence, partly wallowing alone in misery.<p>No news of Sherlock’s condition and the realisation that the situation was beginning to look very grim had hit him hard, feeling like the situation was spiralling uncontrollably out of his hands had caused him to drown his sorrows in a glass or four, not counting the whiskey Mycroft had offered him this morning.</p>
<p>The music in the background was playing a piece conducted by a violinist that made him miss Sherlock even more, and he pressed his lips to his almost empty glass, downing the final drops of wine he had kept pouring himself ever since returning home, hazily turning his head to stare up at the ceiling, preventing his head to spin too much.</p>
<p>On his chest a framed photo of his husband-to-be rested. </p>
<p>It had been taken shortly after Victor had rekindled their romance again, a photo of Sherlock taken by their wedding photographer that time when Victor had insisted that they should pay the woman a visit to her studio to take a look at her portfolio before deciding to hire her for the job.</p>
<p>Sherlock was the perfect model of course, all interesting angles, shadows and unusual features. Victor would never grow tired of looking at him and the photographer had been exited as well when seeing him, insisting that a portrait should be taken.</p>
<p>Languidly reclining in a brown leather armchair, legs crossed, hands on armrests, staring straight into the camera, features severe and eyes dark, almost hooded beneath those long lashes. </p>
<p>He looked ethereal with his pale skin and black curls, dressed in a dark narrow suit and Victor could feel his heart clench as he stared at the photo trough his drunken haze, tears welling up in his eyes for the umptieth time this evening. </p>
<p>Sherlock seldom smiled, neither in real life nor on photos, he almost always looked very serious and when he did occasionally twitch his lips, it was in a gesture of sarcasm or insincerity. </p>
<p>But Victor loved him, he had loved him ever since that first day back at Cambridge and after so many years apart it was tearing him to pieces to realise that this separation that he was now forced to endure could perhaps turn out to last forever.</p>
<p>That thought hit him with the impact of a tidal wave every time his mind caught onto that fact and he rose from his position on the sofa to pour himself the last remnants of the wine bottle standing on the floor conveniently within his reach.</p>
<p>As he moved to discard the empty bottle, slumping down on the sofa quite heavily, his eyes caught something white lying on the floor beneath the coffee table. </p>
<p>A piece of paper.</p>
<p>It took him almost a full minute to recognize what it was. </p>
<p>It had been delivered by messenger during the afternoon but he had not bothered to open it straight away and it had quickly been forgotten on account of the situation with Sherlock, and then it must have fallen to the floor sometime during the evening when Victor had occupied his time pacing the room, drinking wine and sprawling on the sofa. </p>
<p>No name on the envelope except for his own and then the word “urgent” written in black.</p>
<p>He had no idea who could have sent it to him and initially he hadn’t cared to read it, far too busy wallowing in his own misery.</p>
<p>But now curiosity got the better of him and with some effort he hauled himself from the sofa, swaying a little bit as he rose, before he clumsily went down on all four to creep under the table to retrieve it.</p>
<p>Slightly out of breath he made it back to the sofa, supressing a sudden bout of nausea before he arranged himself into a horizontal position once more. Alcohol and nothing to eat all day had not been such a good idea, but on the other hand, the wine had helped him numb his feelings at least a little bit.</p>
<p>Sherlock’s serious face stared at him from the discarded photo next to him and Victor sighed deeply, pressing a soft kiss to that angular face before he turned his attention back to the letter.</p>
<p>Recognising the level of alcohol in his system as well as the lack of a letter knife, he tore into the envelope quite forcefully to retrieve the letter inside and then raised it to his eyes to read what the short and succinct message was trying to tell him.</p>
<p>His eyes widened in shock the longer he kept reading and once he was finished, he reread it a second time, his heart rate increasing and boiling anger rising inside of him as the impact of the message hit him with the force of a sledgehammer straight to the gut.</p>
<p>His hand scrunched the letter into a ball that fell to the floor, along with the framed photograph as he rose from the sofa, suddenly no longer weighed down by anguish and despair but instead incandescent with rage, his eyes flaming furiously as he retrieved his wine glass to smash it with all his might against the wall. </p>
<p>Then he bent down, still swaying slightly and picked the photo of Sherlock up from the floor, staring at the picture one last time, before he in an act of uncontrollable rage, raised his curled fist and punched straight through that delicate face with those dark deceitful eyes, cracking the glass as well as the frame, before he threw the offensive image away from him and strode off.</p>
<p>Mere minutes later the front door was slammed shut forcibly in his wake and the sound of his determined footsteps echoed down the stairs as he left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. A brief matter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mycroft was a man used to stressful situations of all kinds, in his line of profession he more or less needed to be. Foolish politicians, testy bureaucrats, tyrannical leaders and people with more power than common sense, individuals that could test a person’s patience to the limit. </p>
<p>He always managed to keep his cold façade, to never let anything he truly felt show on his features. And even the company of Victor Trevor and Charles Magnussen was something he had managed to seemingly tolerate as the alternative had been non-existent. </p>
<p>But after the deteriorating moods Victor seemed to suffer from as of late, even Mycroft felt like he had reached the end of his tether after almost a full day in the man’s company. </p>
<p>Victor Trevor was clearly as mad as a bat and the realisation that Sherlock might still end up married to him made Mycroft supress a shiver of discomfort ready to run down his spine. </p>
<p>Seldom had he met a person so possessive of another human being and that Sherlock had once loved this man, however naively, was astonishing to consider.</p>
<p>Mycroft had always tried to stress the lesson of keeping your emotional distance to others, never get entangled in people’s messy affairs and never bother with forming liaisons based on love or friendship. The cost of getting involved, caring so to speak, was never worth the cost of vulnerability that such a commitment inevitably caused. </p>
<p>He knew that it could be viewed as ironic to say such things when he had failed himself when it came to one particular person, but on the other hand family was family and maybe his tendency to worry and care for the well-being of his brother was proof enough of how even the coldest man could find himself vulnerable when allowwing sentiment to rule over reason.</p>
<p>That he cared for his brother was after all one of the reasons that he was in this mess in the first place, however much he logically knew that it would have served himself better if he had allowed his brother to suffer the consequences of the situation on his own.</p>
<p>Just look at where the folly of caring had ended the both of them.</p>
<p>And yet he would never had wished for his annoying little brother to end up chained to such a deranged man as Victor Trevor. </p>
<p>Despite being a person who didn’t feel the need to resort to the killing of others unless strictly necessary, Mycroft actually looked forward to disposing of this particular creature and he could even find some comfort in the idea of sealing Victor’s fate by giving the order himself.</p>
<p>The opportunities were endless and while he had been sitting across the man this afternoon he had entertained himself with picturing the various scenarios he could choose from, the man sobbing in the chair in front of him being none the wiser. </p>
<p> He truly was a pitiable creature, a rare combination of melodrama, jealousy and hatred that Mycroft had difficulty enduring. If Sherlock had somehow been a part of making him this way or if this was all his own doing was difficult to say, but that the two of them should never have met was evident for everyone except Victor. </p>
<p>Reclining in his library, finally alone, Mycroft now wondered how John Watson was fairing this evening.</p>
<p>He had been picked up by Magnussen’s car as expected so Mycroft knew that the meeting had not been cancelled, but the question was if the doctor was going to succeed in his efforts to get invited to Magnussen’s home. </p>
<p>John Watson was hardly a skilled manipulator and also a terrible liar, while Magnussen was a man operating on the highest level imaginable when it came to playing mind games with people. </p>
<p>But the doctor clearly had some hidden talents if he had managed to attract Sherlock’s interest as well as surviving a showdown with Victor the other night, so perhaps there was more to the man than what could be deduced at first glance.</p>
<p>Mycroft prided himself of usually being able to read people with a single glance and he was seldom wrong. But there were times, even if they were few and far between, that left some people shrouded in ambiguity even for him, and perhaps he had reason to believe that John Watson was one of those who had more to offer than what met the eye.</p>
<p>Mycroft didn’t have to wait too long before his phone alerted him to the fact that he would have the answer to whether or not John had succeeded in task or not, soon enough.</p>
<p>The doctor sounded slightly out of breath when Mycroft picked up the call and when he almost whispered that he was currently back at the barrack, stalling for time, Mycroft easily realised that in order to get some privacy to make the call, the doctor must have made the effort to sneak away from his cohabitants that most likely were not sleeping yet, perhaps even by using the bathroom window to climb out at the back. </p>
<p>It was easy to deduce that Magnussen’s driver was probably standing guard at the front, preventing him from using that exit, so the bathroom actually seemed the likeliest option.</p>
<p>When mentioning this observation there was a surprised silence on the other end.</p>
<p>“You’re the one who taught him how to read people, aren’t you?” there eventually came a reply, expressed with a touch of awe but also exasperation to the voice.</p>
<p>“Well, your shortness of breath...,” Mycroft began but was interrupted.</p>
<p>“Was all you needed to hear to be able to see the whole picture as if being here yourself to see it. Bloody hell, what kind of people have I gotten myself involved with.”</p>
<p>“If you’re only just now asking yourself that question, Dr Watson, I’m going to be terribly disappointed. But assumingly my brother’s silver tongue has managed to beguile yet another man to follow him down the path to destruction, so maybe it shouldn’t surprise me that you don’t know who you’re dealing with. A little late to turn back now, I should think, but of course there is still that option I guess.”</p>
<p>This caused a slight rise in tone from the other man, clearly angered by the suggestion.</p>
<p>“Of course I’m not backing out of anything! I’m just baffled that there’s actually two of you who can do the deduction thing. Your family dinners must have been a laugh.”</p>
<p>“Yes, they were endlessly entertaining,” Mycroft sardonically replied, his tone indicating that dinner time at the Holmes residence had been anything but fun. “Now, if you would be so kind as to inform me if you’ve managed to do what you set out to achieve tonight. Have you managed to strike a deal with the devil yet?”</p>
<p>“As good as.”</p>
<p>Mycroft then intently listened to the retelling of the evenings events without saying much, not even when the subject of summoning Sherlock at such a short notice was brought forward.</p>
<p> He merely noted that time was indeed upon them now, either this went their way or this was likely the last time he would hear from John Watson.</p>
<p>No use spending time speculating, events would unfold in either direction and he was uncomfortably aware that he was unable to do anything about it. </p>
<p>All he could do was to ensure the doctor that he would get in contact with his brother straight away and inform him of the latest development.</p>
<p>As predicted, sentiment had the galling habit of raising its pathetic head when the other man, by the end of the call, had asked about Sherlock, how he was doing, despite most likely realising the stupidity of such a question as there was nothing truly wrong with Sherlock. </p>
<p>It was after all just a game of pretend. </p>
<p>But John Watson still clearly needed the reassurance to know that everything was fine, which was probably based on some pitiable affection for the man who had brought him into this mess in the first place.</p>
<p>How tiresome....</p>
<p>“There is no need to worry yourself about him, Dr Watson. He is doing as well as a man living with the consequences of his own actions might be,“ Mycroft had curtly replied.</p>
<p>After a day spent playing the part of the worried brother, Mycroft was exhausted, not to mention annoyed, so if he came off a bit harsh now, he had reasons to feel that way. So even if it was a bit bothersome that Magnussen wanted to act this quickly and strangely enough without any proof of evidence from Watson, it was still satisfying to realise that this could soon be over if things went according to plan.</p>
<p>The doctor was, as expected, a bit worried about the whole thing, especially as he didn’t have the comfort of whatever soothing method Sherlock usually applied to pacify the man. Mycroft sincerely hoped it wasn’t all down to sexual manipulations.</p>
<p>Mycroft also secretly wondered what the relationship between these two might be once this was all over and done with. </p>
<p>Would they manage to form something more lasting than the combination of danger and sex that had so far been the thing that had drawn them to each other. Would it be the beginning of something new or the end of what they had when this adventure was over?</p>
<p>If it ever even got to the point of being over of course...</p>
<p>There were still some unknown variables that could topple their whole plan and if that happened, Sherlock would be tethered to Victor or worse within a couple of weeks and John Watson likely running for his life with a target on his back to get away from Magnussen and Victor’s need for vengeance and retaliation. </p>
<p>Having experienced Victor quite intensely today he knew full well that his so-called brother in law would hunt for a perceived enemy until he succeeded in catching and destroying that person. </p>
<p>Magnussen was more of an unknown adversary in that regard.</p>
<p> Mycroft had not experienced the man when his plans got thwarted but assumed that some sort of counterstrike was to be expected. </p>
<p>As for his own role in this plan.....</p>
<p>Well, time would tell eventually.</p>
<p>Once he had ended the call with Dr Watson he dialled the number he knew would reach his brother and told him about the latest turn of events.</p>
<p>“Be careful,” he admonished, most likely to deaf ears, because when Sherlock had picked up a scent and was indulging himself in the rush of one of his games it was difficult to get him to listen to reason. </p>
<p>A whole lifetime of Mycroft being the provider of cautionary advice had taught him that Sherlock was seemingly allergic to reasonable guidance and reprimands. His brother always marched to the sound of his own drum at all times and it was no wonder that it was with a lump in his throat that Mycroft was forced to watch him run straight ahead into danger time and time again.</p>
<p>It was in Sherlock's DNA to act recklessly and it would most likely be the cause of his downfall one day. Mycroft could only  hope that the day wouldn’t be just yet.</p>
<p>Perhaps Dr Watson’s more stoic persona would prove to have a calming effect on his brother’s irresponsible tendencies, but they needed to make it through this ordeal first if they wanted to test that theory out.</p>
<p>As expected Sherlock cut his brother’s worries off by a throw-away remark telling Mycroft to stop nattering and then hung up, leaving Mycroft once more alone with his thoughts and worries but with no other option but to wait and see what kind of result this night would bring them.</p>
<p>As he poured himself another helping of whiskey, he wondered how Victor would react when realising that Sherlock might have managed to slip his net. </p>
<p>But after having spent so much time in the man’s presence today Mycroft couldn’t bare the thought of reaching out to check on him, exposing himself to another bout of craziness and melodrama, so he decided to let sleeping dogs rest for  now and seated himself in front of the fireplace, book in hand to patiently await further news from his brother or the doctor.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> *************************</p>
</div>Sherlock rose from his horizontal position on the bed and threw the phone down on it as he began to undress. He was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing when the ambulance had collected him this morning, but he had a change of clothes waiting for him, neatly placed on a chair in the room.<p>Despite only pretending to be a person suffering from a coma, he had still been forced to confinement and hidden away, simply to avoid the risk of anyone managing the unthinkable feat of sniffing out his location. </p>
<p>It wasn’t likely, they had been very thorough,  Mycroft particularly meticulous this time when making the arrangements, but better safe than sorry. Even if Sherlock hated the idea of being restricted to this place, he realised the necessity of it. And it wasn’t that much of a stretch to being confined to his brothers house every other day.</p>
<p>He had tried to use his time wisely, thinking over the plan in his head during the long hours he had spent at the place Mycroft had managed to turn into a makeshift private clinic. It had been essential to make this situation look what they wanted it to appear like. </p>
<p>Even if Mycroft was good at what he did and had a lot of resources at his disposal, in the end, so did Magnussen, and given enough time, there was a small, but still feasible risk that he would begin looking into the matter more closely. So the trails had to lead to something that officially actually looked like some sort of clinic.</p>
<p>But as Sherlock had now been informed that things were unexpectedly speeding up and his presence was required, he felt the tingle of anticipation prickle his skin as he got dressed, doing his best to trample down the feeling of glee threatening to overwhelm his body at the thought of freedom perhaps finally being within reach.</p>
<p>He had found himself missing John during the day and his thoughts had kept returning to the former army doctor and his meeting with Magnussen. </p>
<p>It had annoyed him that he had no way of knowing how it had all gone down until Mycroft had made the call to inform him that their plan was apparently going to unfold tonight.</p>
<p>Well, he was prepared. Accustomed to playing the waiting game to a certain degree, it was still always preferable to have a quick solution to your problems and if this could end this very evening, well,  it wasn’t a moment too soon.</p>
<p>He put a set of black trainers on and was kneeling down on the floor to tie them when the door opened behind his back.</p>
<p>As the man who played his doctor for pretence sake had been pestering him at all hours throughout the day with different tasks, Sherlock didn’t bother turning around but merely sneered at him to go away.</p>
<p>How many cups of tea or handmade sandwiches could a sane person actually consume in a single day? </p>
<p>Apparently a lot if this man was to be believed. </p>
<p>Perhaps he had confused his role with that of a butler, or perhaps he was simply trying to ease his way into Mycroft’s favour by being exceedingly accommodating to his little brother. </p>
<p>Whatever the reason, it had been bothersome to be subjected to and Sherlock had after a few hours began to ignore the man instead. Such attitude had earned him a few hours of reprieve but that was apparently over now.</p>
<p>As he was preparing to leave this place and not return, a snide remark to make the man back away seemed like the most effective way to dispose of his unwanted attention. If he did as he was told, Sherlock might not even make a complaint about him to Mycroft afterwards.</p>
<p>But there was no reply to his curt order and there was also no sound of receding footsteps, and despite his back being turned to the door Sherlock could still feel the presence of the other person loitering in the doorway. </p>
<p>For God’s sake, what an idiot!</p>
<p>He sighed but then steeled himself. </p>
<p>No use making an enemy of the man who had helped him out with the ambulance this morning. But still, it was annoying when people insisted on forcing their unwanted company on someone who wasn’t interested in what they were offering. This was part of a scheme to take down one of the most revolting men in the country, not a luncheon at the Café Royal.</p>
<p>Sherlock took his time to calm himself down, neatly tying his shoelaces before rising from his position and turning to face his intruder, a snide remark ready to escape his lips.</p>
<p>But it wasn’t the make-shift doctor that was standing by the doorway and Sherlock’s scathing comment immediately faded, his eyes widening in disbelief.</p>
<p>“You?” was all he managed before the figure standing by the door detached himself from his immobile position in the shadows and resolutely stepped into the room.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> *************************</p>
</div>John was driven back to London to arrive just at the appointed time outside Magnussen’s residence.<p>It looked just like he remembered the place and yet it felt like ages since he had been here last. </p>
<p>Circumstances were so much more different now and instead of the slight anticipation he had felt that evening when he had exited a different car, dressed in his army dress uniform, ready for another type of battle, this time he only had himself to rely on, and his ability to follow the orders Sherlock had instructed him to perform and hope that it would be enough.</p>
<p>After knocking on the door, a butler let him inside the house, showed him upstairs and then into a room that he immediately recognised because of the one item that had caught his eye the last time he had been here.</p>
<p>It was the painting of the young man chained to a bed with the shadowy ominous figure reaching out for his throat. </p>
<p>Now that John knew the story of Sherlock’s connection to Magnussen, he could see it clearly for what it was – a blatant display of power to flaunt in the faces of those who knew what the painting really depicted.</p>
<p>Anger surged through him as he stared at the faceless predator looming over the defenceless man on the bed and even if it wasn’t a direct portrait, John knew exactly why Magnussen had seemingly cherished the motif when they had last met in this room. </p>
<p>It had been his first meeting with a man that he after tonight hoped to never see again when they were done here.</p>
<p> The urge to remove the painting, tear it down from the wall and smash it to pieces was overwhelming but he steeled himself and stoically walked over to an armchair and seated himself, waiting for his host to arrive. To keep his calm was essential, at least for a little while longer.</p>
<p>Luckily the wait didn’t last long.</p>
<p>Less than five minutes after his arrival, the sound of steps approaching was heard outside and then the door silently opened to reveal the figure of Magnussen in the doorway, his spectacles gleaming in the dim light, his tall figure throwing a large shadow across the floor, making him seem even more menacing than normally.</p>
<p>“Dr Watson, welcome once again to my home. Perhaps under better circumstances this time around. The last time you were here I believe you were pining terribly for one of the grooms-to-be and had to endure quite an eyeful of someone else staking his claim on him. How a little time and perspective has managed to change circumstances so drastically...”</p>
<p>A small smile made his thin lips curl in pleasure, showcasing teeth that made John think of a predator about to take a bite out of its dinner.</p>
<p>“But then after all, there doesn’t need to be more than just a little bit of bad luck for things to go catastrophically wrong. As I’m sure your former patient could attest to, if you were still on speaking terms. Ready to turn his life into hell, Dr Watson?”</p>
<p>John didn’t reply, not wanting to rise to whatever bait Magnussen was trying to use to get a reaction out of him. He was going to play this out as instructed as far as that was possible.</p>
<p>When not receiving what he wanted, Magnussen turned his head to look at the painting and for a second John almost expected him to make a comment about it, perhaps even make some thinly veiled remark that would mean nothing to a person who didn’t know the circumstances but that would feel like pressing a dagger straight into John’s pulsating heart. Magnussen was clearly out to needle him tonight.</p>
<p>But then, as if changing his mind, he simply spun his head back to look at his guest and then turned on his heel to indicate that they should leave.</p>
<p>“We are about to strike up a deal, you and I, and that is what we shall do shortly enough. But first, there is a little matter I need to attend to. The schedule of a man in my position never allows for any pauses, you see. Please feel free to join me, it will be very brief and then we can get down to business.”</p>
<p>John rose from his chair and followed Magnussen out of the room, glad to be leaving the disturbing painting behind.</p>
<p>“Did you bring proof of your affair with you?” Magnussen asked as he kept walking down the hall.</p>
<p>“Yes.” John indicated a briefcase he had snatched from one of his colleagues while he hadn’t been looking and that had to pose as the supposed proof Magnussen expected to see. Hopefully he wouldn't be forced to open it up as it didn't contain anything of what he had promised.</p>
<p>“Eagerly looking forward to what it is you’re going to show me. Considering the nature of our victim, it is bound to riveting.”</p>
<p>"I don't look at him as a victim," John couldn't help but object.</p>
<p>"No, not yet of course. But selling him out in the way you are about to do, what else would you call him by the end of this evening?"</p>
<p>Choosing not to respond, John simply clenched his jaws and remained silent.</p>
<p>They passed a room where the slightly opened door revealed a woman bent over a carpet, scrubbing away at the fringes with at small toothbrush. Her face was hidden behind a set of red hair hanging down in a tangly mess and what sounded like sobs came from her direction.</p>
<p>“She’s been at that a stain all day but can’t seem to get rid of it. Don’t mind her, doctor,” Magnussen said without turning to look if John had looked at her.</p>
<p>Thrown off by the unexpected sight, John didn’t reply, for now trying to simply focus on his own task, silently praying that Sherlock was going to keep up his end of the bargain. Whatever disturbing images he was going to see this evening, he couldn’t allow them to derail him from his own agenda.</p>
<p>They reached a door at the end of the hall and without looking at his guest, Magnussen simply opened it and entered. </p>
<p>"As I said, this will only take a moment."</p>
<p>Hesitantly John followed, unsure of what this was all about, even more so as the room was quite dark and his eyes had quite some difficulty adjusting to the dimness at first.</p>
<p>But then there was the click of a switch being turned on and one single source of light appeared over their heads, enough to illuminate what the room consisted of and John drew a sharp breath in shock.</p>
<p>“I have the honour of a second guest here this evening. No introductions necessary I presume. I believe you know each other quite vividly,” Magnussen’s voice was heard in the background as John stared with widened yes of horror at the sight in front of him.</p>
<p>Chained to a bed in the middle of the room, naked and stretched out on his back against starch white sheets, dark curls splayed out against the fabric, staring back at him from his immobile position, was a very familiar figure.</p>
<p>Sherlock.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. The curtain falls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their eyes connected, John feeling the confusion his own eyes were displaying, Sherlock’s being more ambiguous. But Magnussen was quick to make his own presence known, interrupting whatever chance they had of communicating this new twist of events. </p>
<p>“Tell me, Dr Watson, what method did he use to persuade you into going along with his plan?  I didn’t believe for a second that you would be amenable to sell him out, so strictly speaking I knew you were wasting my time. But this, your face right now, that is priceless! It was even worth the hassle of using my driver to take you on that pointless ride back and forth for nothing.”</p>
<p>“What’s the meaning of this?” John whispered, still staring at Sherlock but addressing the other man in the room. He had no idea what to do now.</p>
<p>“You tell me,” Magnussen was heard in the background. “What were your intentions for coming here tonight? Did Sherlock promise you to be a really good boy if you played along with his little scheme, trying to gain access to my home?”</p>
<p>“I have no idea what you’re referring to...” John began but Magnussen merely tutted at his feeble effort at playing ignorant.</p>
<p>“No, loyal to a fault I see. Why admit to anything? He has a way of persuading others to do his bidding, our dear schemer. Say what you will about poor Victor Trevor, but he would have been better off if he had never stumbled upon such a treacherous fiancé. You won’t agree with me of course, but from someone with a little more insight to the situation let me assure you that Sherlock here brought this upon himself, all on his own.”</p>
<p>John swallowed and finally managed to tear his eyes away from Sherlock’s helpless form to look at Magnussen instead.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. </p>
<p>It seemed idiotic to continue playing the part he had been assigned, Magnussen didn’t really seem convinced of his playacting skills anyway, but on the other hand, admitting defeat now meant that their game was over. </p>
<p>Granted, Sherlock being tied to a bed in his enemy’s possession was as good as defeat anyway, but the realisation what defeat really meant was unacceptable to John, he couldn’t handle it, refused to acknowledge that the game was actually over.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Magnussen continued to taunt him.</p>
<p>“By the way, what is it in that briefcase you’re carrying? Did you put something in there for pretence sake or is it empty?”</p>
<p>“I...,” John began, feeling the flustering tone in his voice carry through to his bewildered features. </p>
<p>He couldn’t lie convincingly, never had managed it properly, not even the occasional fib growing up, and right now, with a game at this level where everyone else were several steps ahead of him, he realised that he probably never had a chance of managing to fool someone like Magnussen. It had been pointless all along, just a futile attempt at holding on to something that never had any hope of success. </p>
<p>“Cat caught you tongue?” his antagonist purred, his hand straightening his spectacles while looking at John, the satisfaction of victory evident in his features. “Suffice to say, you’ve been caught in a situation far above your meagre level of intelligence and as I mentioned earlier, you and I will have a discussion about actions and consequences soon enough. But as you might realise, my other guest is in dire need of a lesson as well, and he is a rather more pressing matter.... He is so delectably presented for my benefit, it would be rude of me to not favour him above you. Surely you understand my order of priorities....”</p>
<p> The door was opened and the butler that had opened the front door to John at his arrival earlier, now appeared in the opening.</p>
<p>Magnussen made a dismissive gesture with his hand in John direction, now having turned his eyes to look at Sherlock instead, giving him his full attention, devouring him with a hungry gaze.</p>
<p>“Escort the doctor out of my house,” he said to the butler, not bothering to look at the man as he gave his order. He showed the same discourtesy towards John as he addressed him as well. </p>
<p>“I’ll come find you tomorrow morning, Dr Watson. I’m afraid the offer to use my driver has been withdrawn but I’m sure you’ll manage to find a way to get yourself home. You’re an army doctor after all, being resourceful is hardly a novelty for someone like you.” </p>
<p>Magnussen’s mouth twitched into a grin, his eyes glistening behind the spectacles, like slits of dark amusement when they for a second switched back to look at John.</p>
<p>“Oh, and no need trying to make a run for it, that would be a waste of both your time and as well as mine. There is nowhere to hide from me. Just ask dear Sherlock over there, he thought he had been so very very clever and yet...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With those final words John found himself dismissed and out of the room while the door was closed behind his back, leaving Sherlock at the mercy of the other man and whatever disgusting plans Magnussen had in mind for him.</p>
<p>Finally John lost the last vestiges of shock that had kept him more or less in an astonished inability to act, now responding by forcefully punching the door with his fist, reaching for the handle to throw the door open and stop Magnussen from whatever his intentions were.</p>
<p>But the handle remained firmly out of reach as the butler had grabbed a firm hold of his arm after the initial blow, preventing him from storming inside and next the ominous sound of a lock being turned was heard, as a final barrier between him and the occupants of the room.</p>
<p>John went slack in the butler’s hold as realised that there was nothing more he could do.</p>
<p>Except for one thing.</p>
<p>As the game was now seemingly over and all their carefully plotted plans in ruins, a thought hit him with even more determination than it had earlier and a decision was made. Because with nothing more to lose he was going to follow his initial instinct and do something he should have done when he first realised the significance of it. </p>
<p>So when his slack armed had managed to fool the butler into releasing his grip, John saw his opportunity and took it. </p>
<p>A firm right hook hit the butler straight in the jaw, causing the man to stumble backwards from the sheer force of it, which left John with enough leverage to deliver a well-aimed kick to his groin which caused the servant to stagger down on his knees in pain.</p>
<p>Then, with a forceful blow with the briefcase and a silent prayer that the impact wasn’t going to cause more than a temporary knock-out, John watched the butler go down with a thud on the carpet, at the moment taken out, giving John the opportunity to execute what he had in mind.</p>
<p>With a last lingering look at the door of the bedroom where Magnussen was by now most likely doing the most vile things imaginable to Sherlock, John opened a door to his right and pushed the unconscious butler inside, then slammed the door shut and turned on his heel and ran straight back to the room where the offensive painting was hanging, tauntingly on display for everyone to see.</p>
<p>If it was the last thing John ever did right in this wretched mess, he was going to pull that bloody thing down and destroy it. It was the least he could do when everything else seemed so hopeless and utterly ruined.</p>
<p>In the background a phone had started ringing but he didn’t care as he ran along the corridor, passing the young woman still on her knees on the floor, scrubbing away at the carpet. He didn’t hear her crying this time, he didn’t look at her, he just ran and when he finally reached his destination, he tore the door open and stormed inside.</p>
<p>Without a second of hesitation he grabbed the infernal painting off the wall and tore it down, smashing it against a small coffee table and watched with a jolt of excitement how the canvas was ripped right across the shadowy figure’s ominous form. </p>
<p>Then he raised it and slammed it down again, even more forcefully this time, creating another tear, ripping the entire figure apart.</p>
<p> And he kept doing it until the whole painting was lying in ruins in front of him, broken and distorted, the frame hanging in pieces and the motif no longer portraying what it initially had so brazenly showcased to every viewer.</p>
<p>John panted from exertion as he looked at the shambles in front of him and the sound of a satisfied snort escaped his lips which was ironic as he simultaneously realised that this was simply a petty revenge that wouldn’t even put a dent in whatever plans Magnussen had in store for all of them. </p>
<p>Victor Trevor was still going to marry Sherlock, Magnussen was most likely having his way with the groom-to-be right this minute and then he was going to come after John with all the resources and need for retaliation that such a man had at his disposal. What Mycroft’s fate in all of this was going to be was anyone’s guess, but it didn’t matter, Magnussen was going to ruin them all and most likely enjoy himself immensely while doing so.</p>
<p>Well, John wasn’t scared. </p>
<p>He wasn’t going to flee. </p>
<p>The only person he cared about was now forced to succumb to whatever hellish acts Magnussen wanted to subject him to and there was nothing for John to do but allow it to happen for now, to admit defeat and let matters to take their course. </p>
<p>Right now, the game was well and truly over. Not forever, John was never truly going to admit total defeat, but at the moment he could do nothing but admit the harshness of their failure.</p>
<p>The impact of that realisation gutted him and he turned his head away from the ruined painting to prevent himself from even further reminders. </p>
<p>Facing the empty space on the wall where the painting had previously been hanging, he suddenly caught sight of something completely unexpected and as if struck by a sharp jolt of electricity, his heart made a startling leap and his eyes widened as he stared at what had been hidden behind that painting all along.</p>
<p>As his brain caught up with what his eyes were looking at, his lips slowly began to curl into a somewhat manic grin and his fingers trembled as he quickly reached for his phone. </p>
<p>Perhaps things weren’t truly as lost as he had been made to believe.</p>
<p>With fumbling hands he managed to locate the number he was searching for and pressed the dial button.</p>
<p>He could hear someone answer his call just as the unexpected explosion of a gunshot reverberated through the silence and John froze in his place, cold dread running down his spine as the familiar sound hit him with the same impact as if the shot had actually hit his own body and the phone slid out of his hand, softly landing on the thick carpet while the person on the receiving end called out his name.</p>
<p>A second later a second shot roused him out of his shock and he ran towards the door, his heart hammering in his chest as panic was rising and a million horrible images flashed through his mind as he ran through the corridor to reach the place where he knew that the shots had been fired. </p>
<p><i>Please, no, no no</i>….he thought as he ran. <i>Not Sherlock…</i></p>
<p>Even from a distance he saw that the formerly locked door was now opened and a slightly hunched figure stood leaning against the frame, the gun still in his hand, the hand now listlessly hanging as if all his strength had deserted him. </p>
<p>The room which the man had partly entered was eerily quiet, the view still obscured from John, preventing him from seeing the other two occupants more clearly. </p>
<p>But even before he had reached his destination to accurately confirm it, John saw who the other man was and why the gun in his hand looked so very familiar. </p>
<p>With a scream of anguish that he scarcely recognised as his own voice, a name escaped his lips as his legs continued to run towards what awaited him by the end of the corridor, fearing that it was simply all too late.</p>
<p>“<i>Sherlock!!!</i>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. The making of you, if applying myself</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The icy wind pinched his cheeks as he stared out across the water, the grey sky and the drizzle of rain painting a bleak picture in front of him as his arms out of habit crossed his chest to keep warm. </p>
<p>He didn’t hear the footsteps come up from behind, too lost in thought and when a voice spoke, his eyes blinked as if coming back to reality after a long time occupied inside head.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?”</p>
<p>Was he? </p>
<p>He wasn’t sure anymore but nodded all the same and turned around to follow the other man back inside. Without having to ask he knew there would be a black car waiting for him at the front.</p>
<p>Time to face what was coming.</p>
<p>He had dreamt of last night’s events as vividly as if he were still there, witnessing it all over.</p>
<p>He saw Victor leaning against the doorframe, his own legs running as fast as he could yet with the terrible feeling that he was struggling to move through treacle. Dreams added that element of exaggeration, details became enhanced, the terror more feral but he knew that even during the real event he had felt like his feet were not carrying him forward with the desired speed he needed.  </p>
<p>He also remembered seeing his own army weapon hanging loosely from Victor’s hand and then the two lifeless bodies lying inside the room, with Magnussen hunched half-way over the bed, trousers round his ankles, his cock still erect which could have given the sight a somewhat comical touch if not for the severity of the situation. </p>
<p>He had been shot while in the middle of some unsavoury act with the other motionless body in the room, Sherlock who was positioned just as John had seen him earlier, but now with his eyes closed, as if merely asleep.</p>
<p>When John passed the hunched figure in the doorway, Victor had flinched at his sudden appearance but beyond that he hadn’t reacted, hadn’t raised his gun, merely stared at him with a dead-eyed look, as if no longer present to face any consequences.</p>
<p>John’s frantic “What have you done?” was met with no answer.</p>
<p>Removing the gun had seemed pointless, Victor was unable to use it in the state he was in, as if stunned to the core by his own actions, so instead John simply rushed past him, straight to Sherlock’s lifeless form, his medical instincts kicking in, trying to assess if there was something to be done or if it was all too terribly late.</p>
<p>His eyes roamed the naked body looking for an entrance wound, searching for the flow of blood that needed to be stopped. </p>
<p>But he found neither despite his fingers fervently searching everywhere, in panic trying to locate where the bullet might have penetrated the body while his brain simultaneously was trying to tell him that not so much as a drop of blood was evident anywhere, not on the body, not on the sheets.</p>
<p>His eyes swept over to the other body who had fallen face first against the mattress, his spectacles bent out of shape from the impact. It was difficult tell if Magnussen’s eyes were closed as his face was obscured but there was no blood visible on him either.</p>
<p>“What the hell....” John muttered as he tried to understand what he was looking at. </p>
<p>Two motionless, seemingly lifeless bodies, shot mere moments ago and yet not a single drop of blood to be seen anywhere? How was that even possible…?</p>
<p>He bent over Sherlock and put his hand close to his mouth, startled to feel an almost normal breathing pattern. A quick check of his pulse confirmed the same. The man wasn’t dead....</p>
<p>He was fast asleep.</p>
<p>John turned to look at Victor who had slid down on the floor by now, his head buried in his hands while moaning something undistinguishable to himself. The gun was lying discarded next to him on the floor. </p>
<p>John stared at it. It was undoubtedly his, he would recognise it anywhere and he had heard two sharp gunshots and yet…</p>
<p>What sort of trickery was this?</p>
<p>He switched his attention back to the scene on the bed and turned Magnussen around to check his vitals as well, even if subconsciously knowing what he was going to find.</p>
<p>Sure enough, Magnussen was sleeping as well.</p>
<p>It was disconcerting to watch the man that had held Sherlock and Mycroft’s fates in his hands so tightly, now incapacitated and limp on the bed, half naked, glasses crooked, utterly vulnerable and defenceless.</p>
<p> John wasn’t a killer out of instinct even if he had shot his fair share of people in defence during his time in the army. He would never kill a man unable to defend himself, and yet, the urge to reach out for a pillow and smother Magnussen in his sleep did for a second wash over him. </p>
<p>In hindsight he had difficulty telling if that feeling had really occurred or if he had only felt it afterwards when dreaming about it, but in the end both the real John Watson as well as his subconscious self did not make that fatal decision but allowed the ridiculous figure on the bed to remain as he was.</p>
<p>Confused about what to do, he turned back to Sherlock and grabbed his shoulders, as if to  rouse him out of whatever state he was currently suffering from, when the whole room suddenly exploded with activity. </p>
<p>A group of several men stormed in, all dressed in black suits with non-descript faces, anonymous yet sharp and determined. Unsurprised by anything presented to them in the now very crowded space they were occupying.</p>
<p>Mycroft’s men. </p>
<p>They immediately took care of Victor as well as the gun, one moment he was still sitting on the floor, then next both he and the weapon were gone, quietly disposed of.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the others, to John’s baffled surprise, began taking pictures of the scene, detailed ones, close-ups of both men, of the bed, of every single seedy detail that would have befitted the publication of a scandal rag. </p>
<p>Chains, condom wrappers, naked skin, Sherlock’s youthful appearance in contrast to Magnussen’s withered older one. The enactment of that ruined painting had never been more evident than in this moment when lying close to each other on that bed, the act of sexual molestation abruptly interrupted by some mysterious event that John for the life of him couldn’t figure out. </p>
<p>He was firmly pushed aside to make room for whatever it was that these men were doing but then one of them more gently had pulled him by the arm towards the door, spoken to him even if he afterwards couldn’t remember what had been said, then he was escorted out of the room, the door closing firmly behind his back. </p>
<p>The corridor in front of him was swarming with people, other doors forced open, someone carrying the still unconscious butler with a surprising effortlessness, as if disposing of a dirty carpet, the limp body  hanging over his shoulder like a rag doll. </p>
<p>Other men were coming in and out of the room where the painting John had ruined was still lying in pieces on the floor. </p>
<p><i>Good</i> he thought, despite recognising the absurdity of that word, because Sherlock was still chained to Magnussen’s bed and he was bloody <i>sleeping</i> and John couldn’t wrap his head around why that was or what the hell was actually going on here. </p>
<p>Was it really all good now or was he fooling himself?</p>
<p>But there was actually some comfort in the knowledge that no one would ever again look at that despicable picture. And the hiding place behind it, surely one of these men would realise the significance of that discovery and be able to open up that secret passage now that he had revealed its location? </p>
<p>That mysterious vault where everything Magnussen had on his victims was allegedly hidden away…</p>
<p>A firm grip led him to one of the rooms downstairs with a glass of something yellowish resolutely pressed into his hands with the order to drink up. </p>
<p>After initially stubbornly refusing, he soon realised that there wasn’t any room for making his own choices, if not abiding to the order he was going to be forced into it anyway. <br/>A tentative sip was followed by a bigger swallow just to appease the man who wouldn’t leave until he had complied. Not until half the content was downed did it satisfy enough for the man to depart, clearly pleased with John’s obedience. </p>
<p>But just as he had left the room, he was to be replaced by yet another unexpected presence, this time in the form of the grand superior of civil servants himself in all his arrogant glory. </p>
<p>Dressed in a crisp suit of a dogtooth pattern and a mauve-coloured tie to match it, cold blue eyes stared at John staunchly, his firm voice addressing him in that tone that was so indubiously Mycroft’s. </p>
<p>And yet, a hint of smugness, possibly even relief and satisfaction were appearing in his features as well. </p>
<p>Why was that? </p>
<p>“You’ve done well, Dr Watson. You have far exceeded my expectations by finding what we were looking for. You saved us all a lot of time and effort.”</p>
<p>“But Sherlock…?” John heard himself ask in a voice that he scarcely recognised as his own. He sounded broken, and as if speaking from a great distance. </p>
<p>“My brother is in very capable hands. Events taken place in this house tonight has understandably been a great shock to you and I suggest that you allow my driver to take you somewhere quiet where you can calm yourself down and get some well-deserved rest. We will all meet again soon enough.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to sleep…” John mumbled just as his eyelids began to feel heavy, contradicting his own words. </p>
<p>“And yet I think sleep is just what you need, Doctor,” Mycroft’s voice was heard from somewhere in the background, the man himself no longer fully visible for John to focus on, as if fading into obscurity despite a lamp shining quite strongly in the room.</p>
<p> His eyes blinked a few more times before they went completely dark and his body turned limp in the chair, all sounds fading away into the background and soon turning completely mute, as if someone had pressed a button to achieve utter silence.</p>
<p>When he woke up next, he had no idea where he was or how he had ended up there. </p>
<p>The room where he resided was bright white and sparsely furnished and he was splayed out on his back on a bed, still dressed in his own clothes, facing the grey skies of the day through a large window overlooking the view of a lake outside.  </p>
<p>It was not a place he recognised and at first bewilderment had hit him, but his exhausted state prevented his mind to turn into action, tired limbs refusing to cooperate.</p>
<p>He soon fell asleep again and slipped in and out of a dreamlike state where images of last night had played before his eyes in a never-ending loop in what felt like hours until he had finally woken up properly and felt rested enough to struggle against the desire to succumb yet again to slumber. </p>
<p>He stepped out on a small balcony to clear his head in the crisp chilly air and it was on that balcony he had been standing when the presence of another person finally snapped him out of his thoughts. He was escorted down to the waiting black car with the tinted windows and the surly chauffeur. At least one familiar detail in this chaos of conflicted emotions and confusion.   </p>
<p>He was taken on a ride through the countryside, a ride which soon lulled him back to sleep. It had ended when he woke the next time, the car parked on a deserted parking lot in front of a tall grey office building that housed no other occupants, merely empty rooms and endless corridors. </p>
<p>At the end of what looked like a corporate maze, in a room without any windows, and the only source of light was coming from a dimly lit panel in the ceiling, Mycroft was sitting in front of an elegantly decorated table, complete with a tea set of fine china, cake and a white tablecloth. Two cups were already prepared, the steam rising from them as John entered the room and Mycroft in greeting raised his cup before taking a sip.</p>
<p>“Please be seated, Dr Watson”</p>
<p>And as if transferred back to that first meeting in Mycroft’s office a few months ago, John felt his hackles rise at the sight of the other man and his condescending demeanour. As if ingrained in his backbone, all the resentment he felt made him on edge and he stubbornly remained where he was, a good distance away from the table and the offered tea. </p>
<p>God knew what drinking anything prepared by Mycroft Holmes could cause him after all, still wondering about the terribly drowsy state he had suffered for the last couple of hours. </p>
<p>Sherlock’s brother or not, John had neve managed to warm to this man.</p>
<p>“I’ll stand, thanks,” he muttered which earned him a raised eyebrow but nothing more.</p>
<p>“Do as you please. But pride will earn you nothing but discomfort, you look decidedly worn and could probably benefit from some refreshments and a comfortable chair. But I suppose I’m seeing that feisty army man I met on the first night of our acquaintance. Inspiring to see that part of you has not been extinguished along the way, it has been a long and arduous journey after all.”</p>
<p>“Oh, he is definitely still in fighting form, don’t you worry about that,” John grumbled, his eyes narrowing.</p>
<p>Mycroft put his cup back on the saucer without looking at him this time.</p>
<p> “Yes, quite. You have questions I would presume?”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but snort at this, his fists clenched to his sides in an effort to reign in his rising temper. </p>
<p>The headache, his drowsy state and the feeling that he had been thoroughly played in every way possible by the man in front of him caused a spike of anger to pierce through him. He didn’t like the feeling of having been kept in the dark despite offering his help with Magnussen, it was as if he had been a helpless bystander without a bloody clue about anything. </p>
<p>“Oh yes, more than a few!” he seethed.</p>
<p>“Mmm, naturally. Let me begin by once again congratulating you on a job well done. Magnussen’s shackles are no longer weighing us down and you have played a significant role in helping us achieving that.”</p>
<p>“Glad to hear it. It’s just that I don’t really know what you’re talking about!”</p>
<p>“Such a temper, Dr Watson. I really think you would benefit from sitting down, it is a comfortable chair and the tea is an exquisite blend of Lapsang Souchong…”</p>
<p>“<i>No, thank you.</i> Now stop stalling and spit it out. Last thing I remember was your men storming Magnussen’s house, me being forced to drink a very suspicious cocktail and then meeting you. Next I wake up in a strange place, head hurting like hell before I fall straight back to sleep, continuing to linger between being awake and falling asleep for who knows how long. It’s almost as if someone went to the trouble of drugging me. I hate to be the accuser without any proper evidence and yet I’m going to make a wild guess by suggesting that you might know something about that.”</p>
<p>Mycroft pursed his lips in slight disapproval.</p>
<p>“Is that a question or merely an observation?” he asked.</p>
<p>John made a point of staring straight back at him.</p>
<p>“Call it a hunch. What I’m really after is some answers. What the bloody hell happened to me. And to Sherlock and Magnussen? And what were you and your men doing there?”</p>
<p>Mycroft reached for a piece of the sliced-up cake and put it on his plate next to his teacup. He didn’t take a bite though, merely gave John a sharp look.</p>
<p>“That is quite a lot for me to answer in one go. Might I suggest beginning with your most pressing issue?”</p>
<p>“Fine then, what happened to the plan I was supposed to follow last night?”</p>
<p>“A plan is only as good as its ability to change depending on circumstances. Did you really think I would allow such an important opportunity as your admittance to Magnussen’s house to rely on only one course of action? We had 13 different scenarios prepared for last night and the one to play out happened to be number 7.”</p>
<p>John couldn’t help but feel his hackles rise even further from this open display of arrogance on Mycroft’s part, it grated on his nerves to hear the man talk as if what he was saying was perfectly understandable to anyone with a brain. As if John was an idiot for believing that the plan he had been told to follow could possibly be enough.</p>
<p>“And when did that plan begin to deviate from the plan I had arranged with Sherlock?” he managed to hiss through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>“Your plan still played out in the background with a few different changes to its original outset. But various aspects threatened to botch up all those carefully laid arrangements, particularly with the interference of Victor Trevor at the scene and then of course the unfortunate event of Magnussen locating Sherlock and bringing him back to his house. Without preparations for different eventualities, both of those incidents could have resulted in a very poor ending for us all. But as we came prepared, these interferences didn’t cause us any disadvantage.”</p>
<p>“And not even once did you consider informing me that you all along were playing a different game than I was? I did talk to you just an hour before I went to his house after all...”</p>
<p>“You misinterpret what I’m trying to tell you. We did all participate in the same game, I just made a few precautions, as life has a way of not arranging itself to the plotting of humans. Victor Trevor was always going to be a loose cannon for example, safety measures needed to be made in case of his meddling. After having spent a considerable amount of time in his presence yesterday I knew the state he was in, it was only a matter of time before he was going to interfere in some way. And considering that he had your gun in his possession…”</p>
<p>“Yeah, about that. What the hell happened? I heard gunshots and then…Well, when I examined the bodies, they were asleep!”</p>
<p>“The gun didn’t contain real bullets. Do you really think I would allow a halfwit like Trevor to walk around with a gun after finding out that he had stolen your service weapon and threatened you with it? Just imagine the disaster caused by someone like him, plagued by jealousy, and armed to boot, it would have been irresponsible of me to have permitted such a threat to continue hanging over our heads any longer than necessary.”</p>
<p>“I...well...”John began, not sure what to say, realising that he should perhaps have been more worried about Victor Trevor and the stolen gun than he actually had been. </p>
<p>His concern had mostly been about Sherlock and Magnussen, the treat of Victor had somehow fallen into the back of his mind during the course of their planning. Suddenly he realised the idiocy of sending Victor that letter about Magnussen’s betrayal, recognising the mistake he had made and how terribly wrong things could have gone last night on account of it. </p>
<p>Mycroft took a tentative bite of his cake, adverting his eyes for a second as if allowing John some peace to come to terms with his own actions, as if Mycroft knew what he done, sending that note to Victor. </p>
<p>But if he did know, he didn’t say anything about it and after having swallowed his small bite, time for regrets was apparently over and he continued.</p>
<p>“We had the gun trampled with, making a few adjustments, but then allowing him to keep it without letting him know that we had made some modifications to it. It was preferable to let him hold onto it rather than watching him acquiring a new one. As I’m sure you noticed, no real bullets penetrated the bodies even if the sound made it seem as if actual shots had been fired. Instead tranquilizing darts were used.”</p>
<p>“Tranquilising darts??!”</p>
<p>“Well. A modified form of tranquilising darts, far quicker in effect than usual, putting the victim in immediate sedation, leaving a minimal punctuation wound. Trevor aimed at their heads, with the intent to kill them, so the tiny darts most likely got lost in the tresses of their hair. Sherlock’s in particular would have been difficult to locate. I have been telling him to get a haircut, but you know how it is with siblings, do they ever deign to listen?”</p>
<p>“But there was a sound? I don’t think those type of weapons usually…” John began but was interrupted by a hand impatiently waiving at his slow-wittedness.</p>
<p>“As I said, we modified your former army weapon a bit. The sound was for the benefit of my men, upon hearing the signal they were to enter the building. As per the arrangement of plan number 7.”</p>
<p>“And if Victor had not showed up and Magnussen had simply continued to ravage Sherlock’s body in bed, did you plan for that eventuality as well?”</p>
<p>“Of course. The moment my contact at the facility where Sherlock was being kept informed me that Magnussen had showed up and taken Sherlock with him, our plans changed according to the new direction of events. Going back to the house accompanied by Magnussen was always going to be a possibility and there is no use refusing an open invitation to the lion’s den if you have been caught in a lie anyway. We were prepared to deal with almost every type of scenario imaginable.”</p>
<p>“How is this even possible...? How can someone like you have access to ...?”</p>
<p>Mycroft raised both eyebrows this time, as if genuinely surprised by John’s confusion.</p>
<p>“To modify weapons? To plan for every possible eventuality in advance? My brother really has been secretive about my occupation it seems. It doesn’t matter. Suffice to say, I have the staff and resources to make things like that happen, the less you know about it the better.”</p>
<p>John shook his head to clear the jumble of thoughts swirling inside it right now. This was beginning to be a bit too much for his still somewhat hazy mind.</p>
<p>“Ok, so if I understand you correctly, Victor came raging into the house, fired two shots to each head but only managed to put his victims to sleep. Did he realise that himself? He seemed quite out of it when I got there.”</p>
<p>“No, he was too caught up in his own emotional turmoil, he is still under the impression that my brother and Charles Magnussen are dead and we have so far not informed him of the truth. It is to our benefit if he keeps believing that he is a murderer. My men led him away quickly enough and he is apparently still suffering some sort of shock. He doesn’t even remember that <i>you</i> were there and considering his strong aversion to you, that is saying a lot. Lucky for you that he didn’t react on your intrusion or you would have been put to sleep as well if he had felt inclined to shoot you along with the others.”</p>
<p>“I think someone made sure I got my fair share of sedatives anyway,” John grumbled but Mycroft remained unphased by the thinly veiled accusation.</p>
<p>“Your removal from the scene was detrimental to our job. Admittedly you did a great job of locating the entrance to the vault and as I believe I mentioned earlier, you saved us a lot of time and effort by doing so. But beyond that, it was beneficial to us if you stayed clear of the scene and allowed my men to take care of the rest.”</p>
<p>“So I was just to be disposed of then, when I had served my purpose?”</p>
<p>“Don’t look at it like that. Your help was invaluable to us, but tranquilising darts or not, we needed to work quickly if having a chance of finally ridding ourselves of that nuisance Charles Magnussen. There was no time to take care of you as well. We did what we deemed necessary.”</p>
<p>“By drugging me?”</p>
<p>Mycroft didn’t reply and with a sigh John decided to let it go for now and focus on the other questions he had.</p>
<p>“And how did you manage to rid yourself of Charles Magnussen then? I saw your men taking a bunch of photos of him and Sherlock, are those for blackmailing purposes or what?”</p>
<p>“Just insurance, if he ever decides to meddle in our affairs again. With access to his vault we got what we came for and those missile plans are now back where they belong. We also found some additional interesting material that he has been using against others, naturally we confiscated those as well. He now has nothing on anyone as far as we know. The compromising photos are my way of making sure that he will be staying as far away as possible from myself as well as of my brother. Those and some other chosen data that we managed to confiscate from that vault of his…”</p>
<p>John gaped at him in surprise.</p>
<p>“So you’re just going to let him escape unharmed? No punishment beyond stealing the material he kept in his vault? That sounds surprisingly meek coming from you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, let me assure you, I’m not meek. When the people he has been playing like puppets on account of his blackmailing business find out that he has lost his upper hand, he won’t be able to remain in his position for very long. I’ll give it a week at the most. People with grudges tend to be thirsty for revenge and some of them has quite a lot of resources to pull off the most intricate ways of punishment. I don’t need to get my own hands dirty when I know that there is a long line of retaliators ready to get their claws out.”</p>
<p>“He is a successful businessman, not everything he has achieved is based on blackmail and leverage,” John pointed out but knew that Mycroft likely wouldn’t foresee his expressed outcome for Magnussen without some knowledge in the matter.</p>
<p>“True. But he has earned himself a terrible disadvantage by aggravating the wrong people on his way to the top, it will be those same people that will make sure to bring down even the more legitimate side of his enterprise. Even those with power and wealth need friends in high places or they will soon realise that their fortune might suddenly start to dwindle. Media is such a fickle business after all, one day you’re on top of the world, the next all of your sponsors have withdrawn, your licences have been evoked and you’re facing lawsuits from disgruntled people in every corner that have previously been silenced by loyal associates but now suddenly are given a way to voice their criticism openly. An entrepreneur is only as good as his reputation and ability to generate money, once that is ruined his business is as good as dead.”</p>
<p>“So his threat is really eliminated then? He no longer holds any sway over anyone?”</p>
<p>“Last I heard, he is currently facing an angry group of board members on account of some misguiding statistics in his recent bookkeeping. The man formerly in charge of aiding him with those fraudulent numbers has suddenly decided to withdraw that help on account of no longer suffering the threat of exposure regarding his extramarital affairs with rent boys.”</p>
<p>“Oh...I see..,” John’s eyes widened as he allowed that piece of information to settle, picturing a mob of angry men in suits raging against Magnussen up in that tower of his back in London.</p>
<p> For some reason that image sat very well with him despite the nagging feeling that he had been slightly played by the Holmes brothers as well last night. He was wise enough to realise though that their methods might have been justified if this was the result they had managed to generate. </p>
<p>“And Victor, what of him?” he asked after a moment’s contemplation over how neatly it had all played out in the end.</p>
<p>“As he is still under the impression that he has committed not only one but two cold-blooded shootings, his natural instinct to flee will kick in as soon as he snaps out of the most acute shock he is currently suffering from. He will try to make a run for it and will be allowed to do so, despite being held by my men at the moment. The greater distance between him and us the better. Should he ever bother trying to return, he will be dealt with accordingly.”</p>
<p>“Killed off you mean.”</p>
<p>“As I said. <i>Accordingly</i>.”</p>
<p>John stared at Mycroft, at the neatly set table, the teacups and the delectable Victoria sponge cake with strawberry jam in a jar on the side.</p>
<p>“This is what you do then? Play people like pieces in a chess game, decide which direction they should take according to the arrangements you have made in advance?”</p>
<p>“That is one way of describing it. But it is of curse never as simple as that when dealing with actual people. Numbers and statistics are all fine and well, but then there is always that unpredictable human angle that muddles it all by bringing feelings into the mix. Case in point would be my own brother, even if he would never admit to it himself. Not only did he bring about this whole disaster with Trevor and Magnussen in the first place on account of some childish desire to acquire himself a friend and then to get back at me for pointing out the dangers of getting involved , but he also managed to drag you into the mess as well, in a very round about sort of way paved with rash decisions that must have caused both you and him many sleepless nights.”</p>
<p>“Well, I always knew he wasn’t an easy person, from the very first time that I met him. Drama is bound to follow in his footsteps whether I like it or not.”</p>
<p>“And are you up to that sort of commitment, Dr Watson? As you point out, it will never be easy with him. Constantly drawn to danger and risk, it is certain to get hazardous more than once.”</p>
<p>John gave the other man a weak smile but nodded all the same.</p>
<p>“As I thought,” Mycroft muttered, “Two peas in a pod, the pair of you. But I can hardly deny you to give it a try after having proved yourself so capable during all of this.”</p>
<p>“I never asked for your approval, you know.”</p>
<p>“And you will likely never have it. But I won’t stand in your way either. You better go to him, he is expecting you, has been asking for you ever since he woke up.”</p>
<p>“Where is he then?”</p>
<p>“My driver will take you.”</p>
<p>John turned for the door, an eagerness already evident in his step now that he knew that his role wasn’t over and done with just because their recent adventure was wrapped up and finished.  The realisation that Sherlock was just as eagerly awaiting <i>his</i> arrival made it all even better.</p>
<p>Behind his back Mycroft cleared his throat and addressed him one final time.</p>
<p>“A piece of advice, Doctor. You could be the making of my brother or make him worse than ever. I believe that choice is up to you, make the best of that ability.”</p>
<p>“Will do,” John threw over his shoulder, already halfway out the door, no longer concerned about Mycroft Holmes and his carefully arranged chess pieces and machinations, the world of politics and the downfall of media tycoons.</p>
<p>It was a relief to know that Magnussen was beaten, even if the notion of it still was difficult to actually grasp. After being used to Magnussen throwing his intimidating shadow over their lives it wasn’t easy to realise that it could all truly be over now.</p>
<p>But he wasn’t going to waste more time pondering the outcome of that despicable man when he had far more exciting things to think about and look forward to.</p>
<p>The black car took him all the way back to Mycroft’s house and as it pulled up at the front he could see a familiar figure sitting in one of the windows, waiting for him.</p>
<p>It was a relief to see Sherlock looking like his normal self again. There wasn’t any signs of the ordeal he had been through, he was perched in one of the large windows overlooking the front of the house, dressed in one of his silky dressing gowns, this time a scarlet one, complementing his pale alabaster skin perfectly. </p>
<p>A cigarette was as usual dangling between his fingers and despite John’s dislike of that habit it was a comfortable sight to behold. </p>
<p>He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the slender form, as he had promised himself to do when the business with Magnussen was over and done with.</p>
<p>He took his time, inhaling the scent of the other man, after having pried the cigarette out of his hand and thrown it out the window, allowing himself to roam Sherlock’s firm and lithe body, the silky touch beneath his fingertips accentuating the sensation of pleasure he felt pooling in his stomach as he basked in the realisation of being allowed to do this openly for once, to display whatever affection he wanted without the fear of anyone catching them. </p>
<p>No more hiding from Victor Trevor or Charles Magnussen. No more hiding period.</p>
<p>Sherlock softly pressed his lips to his mouth and John allowed happiness to wash over him as the kiss deepened and their bodies eagerly pressed against each other, hands tearing at garments and buttons coming undone.</p>
<p>But before they went any further John stopped the younger man by pressing a hand against his chest, preventing any advances until he had said what he wanted to say. </p>
<p>He took a gentle hold of Sherlock’s chin and tilted his head so their eyes could meet, reassured to have his full attention. </p>
<p>“I think your brother has allowed me to ravage you to my heart’s content if I only make sure to keep you on the straight and narrow from now on.”</p>
<p>Sherlock’s lips twitched a little in doubt, his brow frowning slightly.</p>
<p>“I find that hard to believe. Not sure my brother likes the idea of anyone ravaging my body actually.”</p>
<p>“No, probably not,” John smiled. “But he was wise enough to realise that preventing us would be a losing game. He even suggested that I could one day be the making of you. If I applied myself to the job.”</p>
<p>Sherlock’s smile grew wider and there was a twinkle in his eye now.</p>
<p>“And will you? <i>Apply yourself</i>?”</p>
<p>“Well. We’ll just have to wait and see, don’t we?”</p>
<p>With those final words he leaned forward and grabbed Sherlock around the waist, pulling him down from the windowsill. </p>
<p>Losing his balance a little bit by accidentally stepping on Sherlock’s dressing gown, they both fell down on the thick carpet, Sherlock beneath him with his back against the floor, John on top, quickly taking advantage of the upper hand by straddling those slender hips with his thighs, locking the writhing body under his weight.</p>
<p>They stared at each other in silence for a second, Sherlock’s eyes glittering in anticipation, his own with mischief.</p>
<p>Then he leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from Sherlock’s.</p>
<p>“But, by the look of things, I think I’ll have a good chance of getting you to do as I say,” he whispered and then winked before he bent down to kiss those luscious lips that eagerly had awaited his move.</p>
<p>“I’ll make you work really hard, Doctor Watson,” Sherlock managed to mumble into the kiss.</p>
<p>“Yeah? Well I wouldn’t have it any other way.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So this is the end. <br/>A short epilogue will follow that will offer a darker twist to the story, so those who like to leave our couple where they are right now, on a lighter note, should stop reading after this chapter and consider this the end.<br/>Those who want to see a different take on the final ending are free to read the epilogue but be aware that it won't be a "happily ever after" kind of thing. The choice is up to you.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So this is the end.<br/>This short epilogue  will offer a darker twist to the story, so those who liked where we left our happy couple in the previous chapter should stop reading after that and consider it the end.<br/>Those who want to see a different take on the final ending are free to read this epilogue but be aware that it won't be a "happily ever after" kind of thing. The choice is up to you.</p>
<p>Warning for major character death.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The icy wind pinched his cheeks as he stared out across the water, the grey sky and the drizzle of rain painting a bleak picture in front of him as his arms out of habit crossed his chest to keep warm. </p>
<p>He didn’t hear the footsteps come up from behind, too lost in thought and when a voice spoke, his eyes blinked as if coming back to reality after a long time occupied inside head.</p>
<p>“Are you ready?”</p>
<p>Was he? </p>
<p>He wasn’t sure anymore but nodded all the same and turned around to follow the other man back inside. Without having to ask he knew there would be a black car waiting for him at the front.</p>
<p>Time to face what was coming.</p>
<p>Because it never went the way his dreams had allowed him to believe of course. </p>
<p>A tranquilising gun, a secret vault hidden behind a painting, Victor Trevor and Charles Magnussen obliterated in one swift move and Mycroft Holmes celebrating with a tea party afterwards in some anonymous office building, pleased as punch and everyone happy? </p>
<p>As Sherlock would have put it, if he had still been around to pass a comment, how utterly ridiculous.</p>
<p>John clenched his teeth as he got into the car, ignoring the presence next to him. Stoically he stared out the window during the whole ride and once the car had stopped, he was the first to get out.</p>
<p>It was childish to hold grudges against anyone, it wouldn’t change anything, but he didn’t know what else to do with all that raging despair he had bottled up inside of him, so he just clenched his fists and walked on.</p>
<p>The wind had increased in intensity and he could feel the chill of it through his jacket but realised that it no longer mattered if it was unbearably cold, if his body shivered or not, that he was likely to catch a cold within a couple of days. </p>
<p>It was no longer relevant.</p>
<p>Someone caught up with him and held an umbrella over his head as they walked the short trail over to the secluded area of the cemetery where a shiny new stone, fittingly black and devoid of unnecessary ornaments now resided next to a newly dug gravesite. White flowers in a wreath was the only sign of other grievers having visited the place. Mycroft most likely, who else was left?</p>
<p>It was like receiving a blow to the gut to look down at the name, so final, no more chances of anything else, just this. A quiet gravesite with a cold black headstone, nothing more.</p>
<p>He remembered Mycroft’s words right after, when it was all over and nothing but the outlines of body under a sheet remained for them both to look at.</p>
<p>“He never suffered. The shot went straight to the head. He died immediately.”</p>
<p>“And now what?”</p>
<p>He asked even if he knew the answer. Because there wasn’t anything else left now. </p>
<p>And thankfully he didn’t get a reply, no meaningless words of comfort, no looks of commiseration.  There was nothing to be said.</p>
<p>For a second he closed his eyes and he saw that familiar figure in the window, dressed in his scarlet dressing gown, forever awaiting his arrival. </p>
<p>The cigarette glowed between his fingers like a welcoming beacon and John longed to reach out and take it, pry it from those long slender digits, dispose of it like he had always tended to do. Those glittering eyes looking at him, full of anticipation, peering at him from under raven dark curls with a mischievous smile on his lips.</p>
<p>John felt something sharp and hard twist in his chest as he once more opened his eyes and the image vanished.</p>
<p>Then he turned his back on the gravesite and began walking away from it. The rain was whipping quite ruthlessly in his face now but he realised that he didn’t care, he hardly felt it.</p>
<p>He remembered Sherlock the way he had seen him that last time, chained to Magnussen’s bed on that fateful evening, silent for once, just looking at him. They never exchanged any final words because none of them realised that there would never be any more words to be spoken between them. </p>
<p>He passed the waiting car and ignored the door that was held open for him. </p>
<p>He just kept walking. </p>
<p>He longed to sleep again, longed to revisit that other version that only came to him in his dreams, where everything turned out alright in the end and Sherlock was merely sleeping.</p>
<p>Not even once had he allowed his thoughts to linger on what really happened that night, reality soaked in blood with Sherlock staring back at him with unseeing eyes, a trail of crimson trickling down his face from a wound straight through his forehead, Magnussen by his feet, motionless as well, the villain slain but at the cost of the hero. </p>
<p>By the end of that night Magnussen was gone and Mycroft was free, but Sherlock was no longer breathing.</p>
<p>In John’s eyes Sherlock certainly was a hero.  </p>
<p>He had helped bring some life back into John’s empty existence, made it worth living again. Sherlock had made John feel love when he thought he never would, he had made these past couple of months the best as well as the worst in his life and now it had suddenly come to a screeching halt. </p>
<p>Just like that, in the blink of an eye it was over. </p>
<p>One pull of a trigger and gone he was.</p>
<p>The look of surprise in Victor's eyes afterwards could easily have rivalled his own. Who knew that someone who had seemed so indestructible could so easily cease to exist? </p>
<p>John kept walking and the rain ended without him noticing it. </p>
<p>His clothes dried and the tentative beams of sunshine peeked from behind a cloud as he passed the familiar surroundings without actually seeing them. His shoes were muddy and his jacket failed to provide him any warmth but he trudged on anyway.</p>
<p>Once he reached his destination it was afternoon and the wind slowly rustled in the leaves of the trees as he walked up the path to the house. </p>
<p>As he came close enough he raised his head to look up at the large window where he expected to see Sherlock sitting, waiting for him as he usually did, like he had been doing so many times in the past. Different dressing gown every time, but always that look of anticipation in his eyes.</p>
<p>But the window was empty now. </p>
<p>The house was no longer anyone’s home, the place was deserted, put up for sale as the previous owner had decided to move into town and leave every lingering memory behind. </p>
<p>The rustle of the leaves picked up as a cold gust of wind ran through the deserted garden and like a whisper he could hear the conversation he had ran through his head a hundred times already, now play out one final time.</p>
<p>“He even suggested that I could one day be the making of you. If I applied myself to the job.”</p>
<p>“And will you? <i>Apply yourself?</i>”</p>
<p>“Well. We’ll just have to wait and see, don’t we?”</p>
<p>A forlorn smile played on his lips as he stared at the empty window.</p>
<p>“I never even got the chance, did I...” he whispered, before he straightened his shoulders and turned his back on that unspoken vow he never got the opportunity to fulfil. </p>
<p>Slowly he turned away from the empty window and walked back down the path.</p>
<p>There was no one waiting for him anymore.</p>
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